


Leave the War with Me

by Blaithin



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Tony Stark, Civil War Fix-It, Hydra Cap, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Referenced Steve Rogers/Sharon Carter, Temporary Character Death, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Time Travel, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaithin/pseuds/Blaithin
Summary: Steve had been shot before. But most bullets didn’t drag him back and forth through time.As he struggles with a worsening injury and his own complicated feelings following the SHRA, Steve realises that it isn’t his timeline he is jumping through but Tony’s. And the time jumps seem to be leading somewhere, to something worse than he could ever have imagined.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Royswordsman (RoySwordsman)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoySwordsman/gifts).



> As this was my first reverse big bang, I started this process feeling very apprehensive and nervous. I was then incredibly lucky to snag the awesome Colonel Rogers/RoySwordsman. Not only was their art insanely beautiful and detailed but I couldn't have been paired with a kinder, more supportive partner! I had such a great time with the RBB. In the end I felt we were able to create something truly collaborative! I can only hope they enjoy the fic as much as I enjoy their art! 
> 
> Special thanks should also go to [Cachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cachette/pseuds/Cachette) who was an amazing cheerleader and beta for me despite having their own Reverse Big Big to complete! If you haven't already, you should check out their RBB as well.

Steve had been shot before.

More times than was healthy. But having super soldier serum had made him brave, careless and he had lost the fear that a bullet would kill him. Or at least, that it would kill him instantly. Familiarity didn’t make a bullet hurt any less and bullets hurt a lot.

Steve should have noticed the sniper earlier. He should have known something was off. But his thoughts were scattered, pulled apart by an unfamiliar sense of self-doubt which had tormented him since his arrest. Unlike Tony’s utilitarianism, Steve had always let him sense of duty, of right and wrong dictate his actions. And usually he had found it easy to figure out what was right. Steve had been so certain that he doing the right thing, self-assured despite the price. But in the settling dust of SHRA, of the civil war, Steve found himself standing in the ruins of his life and wondering if it was all worth it.

He hadn’t slept in his tiny jail cell the night before. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Tony lying beaten beneath him, blood in his teeth as he told Steve to “finish it”. Steve found himself looking back. His recent decisions strained under his scrutiny, spiderwebbing cracks across glass. With a sickening dread, he recognised that he hadn’t been fighting a war of principal. Not towards the end anyway.  He and Tony had been engaged in an argument of stubbornness, of pride. Steve’s certainty of his position had been bolstered by his anger at Tony, and his inability to see beyond his anger had made him willing to carry on a pointless fight. Steve had seen the destruction their lack of compromise had caused the city. He had seen the pain he had caused the public – the pain he had caused his friends, caused Tony. But by then it had been too late. Tony had said the public was scared of them and he had been right in that aspect. He had been right about a lot of things.

And yet. Some part of Steve –  some small, betrayed, angry part of him was still so mad at Tony. Furious enough that Steve still wanted to fight, to beat him all over again. Tony had betrayed what the Avengers stood for, he had betrayed Steve. Tony had talked a lot about struggling with SHRA, struggling to figure out what the right choice was but he had turned his back on Steve easily enough.

Steve had felt Tony’s absence like the loss of a limb; he caught himself reaching for a man who wasn’t there, talking to empty air. Every moment he was reminded of Tony’s loss was like being sucker-punched in the gut, it was like being betrayed all over again. Steve had never felt grief; rage like it.

The night before his court date he had laid awake in his jail cell. His thoughts a carousel, going around and around the events of their war. Steve had been trying to figure out the moment when things went wrong. Trying to pinpoint when their relationship had become unsalvageable. He wondered when killing Tony had become something he could even consider. The morning had dawned with Steve no closer to any answers and he had trudged, weary and beaten, towards his trial.

The crowd waiting for him at the courthouse was overwhelming.

The smell of people’s fear and anger swallowed him as he was led up the steps. Steve looked around searching for Tony, wondering if the other man would be here to savour his victory. No, Tony would be watching this play out from behind a screen. He never did like to get his hands dirty.

Something out the corner of Steve’s eye snagged at his attention. A flash of movement out of place in the sluggish writhing of the crowd. He glanced up. Across the road, a glimmer of red sparked in an open window. A rifle’s laser.

“Dammit,” Steve said softly, his hands were tied behind his back. The cuffs, another gift from Tony, wouldn’t break even with his super strength.

Ahead of him, a guard glanced back, his eyebrow raised at Steve’s language. Steve didn’t wait. He surged forward, breaking away from the SHIELD agents easily. In one stride he had twisted, shoulder coming down like a battering ram as he ran straight at the guard’s torso. The man went down fast, dropping out of the sniper’s range. And then the bullet hit Steve. It cut deep into his neck, just missing his carotid artery. Fire cut through him, spreading like glass fractures through his skin. He gurgled blood and stumbled, knocked off balance by the force of the blow. Around him, people were screaming, running. Panic hung in the air, almost tangible.

Sharon was fighting her way through the crowd, battling a surging tide as she called his name. Steve tried to shout out to her, to tell her about the sniper but his throat was a mess; skin desperately knitting back to together but not fast enough. Sharon threw herself down next to him, arms shielding him from the stampede of people around them. Steve looked up, wanting to smile, to reassure her that he was going to be fine. He could already feel himself mending. He would be fine.

Pain. Extraordinary, unexpected pain ripped through his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He went limp, gasping as the feeling worked its way through him. Unlike before, this pain was cold, ice daggers slowly pressing into his gut.

Sharon stared down at him; her face was perfectly blank, doll like. Clutched in her hand was a strange-looking, still smoking gun.

In the distance, someone was calling his name, a whisper, barely audible. Steve couldn’t focus, the world was wavering in and out of darkness. Above him, Sharon had started to cry, her fingers biting into his shoulder.

Steve felt cold. He closed his eyes.

Somewhere nearby he could hear Tony calling his name. Maybe he had come after all.


	2. Chapter 1

Steve fell.

Or at least it felt like he was falling, his stomach was riding high in his rib cage, adrenaline rushing through his system. He tried to throw out his arms out to balance himself only to meet resistance from the tight cuffs around his wrists, his arms locked tight behind his back. Shock waves rattled painfully up his forearms.

Without warning, Steve’s knees slammed hard into the ground. Almost instantly his legs gave way. He dropped gracelessly forward, managing to twist just in time to avoid face planting into the dirt. Fire blazed through his stomach, moving snake-like through his gut. Steve fought hard against himself, pushing past the almost unbearable pain, past the desire to let himself relax back into darkness. It was mostly stubborn determination that made him open his eyes. Steve would be damned if he was going to die with his hands tied behind his back like a common criminal.

It was dawn.

Steve blinked at the horizon in confusion. It had been midday minutes ago, the sun had been right above him, searing into his skin as he’d laid on those courthouse steps. But the courthouse was gone, as was the crowd and Sharon. Steve jolted at the thought of Sharon – she had shot him. The movement sent a vicious ripple of pain through him and he gasped, unable to stop himself. He couldn’t remember if his other bullet wounds had hurt this much but he suspected not.

Steve looked around. He was in some sort of rural, park-like area, the ground beneath him was gravelled but beyond him was grass, neatly trimmed and surrounded by tall, imposing trees. Aware that he was laid out in the open air with his hands tied behind his back and blood soaking his uniform, Steve forced himself upright. Between his injury and the handcuffs, it was a struggle and sweat dripped down his forehead, stinging his eyes. Steve flexed his arms once again, cursing Tony as the metal groaned but remained unbreakable. Feeling exposed, Steve made his way for the cover of the trees, each step sent jolts of searing pain through him. Until he figured out where he was and how the hell he had got here, Steve had to assume everything was hostile. Considering that it had been Sharon who had given him the wound in his torso, that didn’t seem far-fetched.

The familiar sound of repulsors shattered the quiet park and Steve looked up as Iron Man flew over his head. The suit was unfamiliar, metallic and sleek. But Steve had been watching Tony fly at his side for years and the man’s movements were as familiar to Steve as his own. He predicted the little seal-like twist that Tony made in the air. A smile threatened, tweaking the corners of his mouth. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Tony fly as if he enjoyed it. Iron Man swung upright; one leg outstretched as he descended. He landed close by, merely feet away.

Steve could feel his thoughts fraying, pulled apart by pain. He forced himself forward, each step a mammoth task. He altered his trajectory, aiming for where Tony had landed. Maybe, if he hadn’t been dizzy with pain, Steve would have hesitated; he would have remembered that they weren’t friends anymore, that they had destroyed their friendship. Tony had put him in jail and Steve had put Tony in hospital. But the pain made his mind slow and his body acted on autopilot. He turned a corner, stepping clumsily onto a boulevard.

Ahead of Steve, face tilted towards the rising sun was Tony.

Tony was a creature of the city, made for bright lights, celebrity and opulence. Steve had always thought of him as the embodiment of this century, a sleek, flashy image of modernity. He was out of the place in the park, a charged lightning storm on a calm day.

Steve didn’t recognise the Iron Man suit Tony was wearing. It was fitted close, silvery and somehow slightly obscene. Tony had removed his face-plate but metal lingered across his brow, almost crown-like. Over the top of suit, Tony was wearing his old bright red jacket. Steve hadn’t seen the jacket in years, not since those early days back in the manor. A memory of Tony, eyes twinkling mischievously over the edge of the jacket’s turned up collar came to Steve suddenly and he breathed deeply, chest hurting at the memory. Tony hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. He hadn’t smiled at all recently.

Tony stopped, staring blankly into the distance before withdrawing a photograph out of his pocket. It was yellowing with age, drooping across his polished gauntleted fingers. From across the park, Steve couldn’t see what the photograph was of, but he found himself captivated by the range of emotions that flashed across Tony’s face. Sadness and anger and something akin to hunger. Tony’s eyebrows were turned up, a flash of hurt.

Steve shifted, the noise a whisper in the darkness. The movement was too far away, too quiet for Tony to hear him, and yet he did. Tony twisted; the move strangely serpentine. His hand dropped, the photograph disappearing into the folds of his jacket. His expression was neutral, impossible to read by the time his gaze found Steve.

“Steve.” Tony breathed. His eyes went wide, huge in his face. Steve had always thought that Tony’s eyes gave him away, too revealing for him to be as cold and detached as he wanted to be. Maybe that was why Tony liked sunglasses so much. He could see himself reflected in Tony’s eyes, half dead on his feet, covered in his own blood.

The last time Steve had seen Tony, the man had looked awful. Steve had never seen the Tony look so old, so broken before. His face had been all bones, eyes sunken and surrounded by dark purple circles.  His skin had been papery, lines pressed deep around his eyes, his mouth; his forehead locked in knots of tension. Tony had been a man on the edge, moments away from breaking.

This Tony was different. He was perfect. The wrinkle and the stress lines had all been wiped away leaving his skin as smooth and untouchable as marble. Even the little laughter lines near his eyes were gone. The man before Steve was an artist’s representation of Tony, all his imperfections forgotten, his handsomeness amplified; his scars, his history lost. 

The shock on Tony’s face disappeared like a mask falling away. He mouthed Steve’s name once again, his lips twitching, twisting: a smiling snake.

The hairs on Steve’s arm stood on end, quivering warningly. Steve took a step back, or at least he tried. His knees crumpled beneath him and he fell hard onto the ground. This time he couldn’t stop himself landing on his face and he lay there, struggling to move, panting with exertion. He could hear soft, padding footsteps coming towards him, impossibly light considering that Tony was wearing the armour.

“Well, well, well.” Steve forced his eyes open. Tony wavered into focus above him. The man was smirking, his whole face filled with cold, sharp excitement.  Tony crouched down, never taking his eyes off Steve’s face. His tongue coming out to lick the edges of his mouth. Up close, his eyes were brilliant, unnaturally blue, almost glowing. “What do we have here?”

 

 

* * *

 “Good morning, Commander Rogers. It is 7:00 am on the 16th of March. The weather is slightly overcast and the temperature is 17 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Steve’s eyelids were stuck together, tacky with sleep. He peeled them open slowly, hissing at the prickling sensation. In the background F.R.I.D.A.Y. continue to run through statistics, her lilting voice soothing as Steve wavered on the edge of consciousness

“Wait, March?” Steve repeated abruptly. His eyes opening fully as the information sunk into his sluggish mind. His voice was hoarse, his throat protesting the sudden use. It wasn’t March, it was September. Or at least it had been when Steve had gone to his trial. Slowly, he remembered Sharon shooting him. He remembered falling and stumbling through that strange park. He remembered Tony leaning over him: Tony’s strange, airbrushed face. Steve had been injured badly; he had been ready to collapse. How much time had he lost recovering?

The room sharpened into focus; shadows retreated to reveal a small, bare, white room. Steve’s first thought was that he was back in a jail cell but the room was too luxurious, too expensive. The cotton sheets beneath his skin were as fine as silk, almost slippery as he moved. The thought luxury had Tony written all it. And Tony would never let S.H.I.E.L.D. get their hands on his A.I.s. Steve must be in Tony’s personal custody. The thought made Steve feel cold.

“That is correct. It is Monday 16th March 2015,” the soft female voice replied. Steve’s wandering thoughts snapped back to the present, panicked.

“No. That’s not possible!” Steve said. It couldn’t be 2015, that was seven years in the future.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. must have been mistaken. “How long have I been here?”

“Sir brought you to the house eight hours ago.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Steve shook his head. If he had only been here eight hours, he couldn’t have lost seven years. The A.I. must be malfunctioning. Or, this was Tony playing a joke and not a particularly funny one.

Energised by a surge of annoyance, Steve pushed himself upright. Pain jarred down his torso, icy fingers tearing into his flesh. Steve gasped in surprise, clamping his hand down across the source of the pain. His side was heavily bandaged, packed with gauze. At the touch of his fingers, something rippled under his hand, a monster beneath the surface. Steve jumped in surprise, snatching his hand away. “What was that!” He shouted into the empty room.

“Sir has worked extensively on your wound. He asked that you do not exert yourself in order to avoid undoing the repairs made by the nanobots.”

Steve’s skin was crawling. He and Tony had never seen eye to eye when it came to Tony’s ‘upgrades’. In Steve’s mind, there were some things that just shouldn’t be messed with. It was dangerous, careless. He wouldn’t put it past Tony to use technology on him, he certainly did it to himself enough. “What did he do to me!”

“I’m sorry, I do not understand the question.”

“How convenient.” Steve snapped, and gingerly pressed his fingers against the wound again. It remained normal this time, feeling firm and clotted under his fingers. But he could tell he wasn’t healed. It felt hot and painful like a fresh wound and that it itself was unusual. If F.R.I.D.A.Y.  was correct and he had been here for at least eight hours, he should have healed almost as good as new. The bullet wound on neck had faded to a faint, tender red scar that would be gone completely by nightfall.

The only explanation was that wound in his side wasn’t normal.

Steve’s careful exploration of his injuries revealed that he was no longer wearing his suit. Instead, he was dressed in a flimsy hospital gown, paper thin and open at the back. He winced at the feel of it, imagining trying to fight in it. Imagining facing Tony in it. Steve sighed wearily. He had learnt during the war and his time with the Avengers to focus on one problem at a timeix one thing and then move onto the next problem. Focusing on his clothing issue, helped subdue the rising feeling of panic. Today had pretty much been the worse. But Steve would fix things, just as soon as he found his clothes.

Steve looked up at the whitewashed ceiling. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., where is my suit?”

“Sir has left your clothing next to the bed.”

Levering himself gingerly upright, Steve spotted the clothing neatly folded by the foot of the bed. It was easy to find, the only thing in the room that wasn’t white. Steve struggled out of bed, tugging on his body armour quickly. Tony hadn’t provided him with underwear he realised irritably and held his breath as he zipped his trousers over his bare skin. The lack of underwear might have been an oversight but Steve couldn’t help but feel it was purposefully.

It wasn’t until he was fully suited that Steve realised something was wrong. He patted himself down awkwardly, stepping towards the sleek mirror near the door. The suit fit him perfectly as if it had been tailored for his exact measurements. But it wasn’t his suit, it wasn’t Captain America’s outfit.

“Where are my clothes!”

“You are wearing them, Commander.” Came the lilting reply.

The man reflected back at him was clad in a skin-tight, navy, catsuit. A five-pointed star encircled in white rested high on his chest and thick white stripes fanned out from the emblem, unfurling like a shadow of wings across his chest and back and wrapping around his upper arms and shoulders. A strange, pale cage around his torso.

“These aren’t my clothes,” Steve said, his fingers pressing hard into the white star on his chest.

“I do not understand.”

Steve sighed in frustration, “Where are my clothes? The clothes I arrived wearing.”

“That outfit was badly damaged. Sir had a copy of your suit, Commander.”

“But this isn’t my suit. I don’t wear anything like this. And why do you keep calling me Commander!”

There was a pause. If Steve had been talking to a person, he would have recognised the delay as indicative that he was starting to annoy them.

“It is your title. Do you not wish to be referred to as such?”

Steve turned away from the mirror, the pain in his side flaring warningly at the sudden movement.

Suddenly it was all too much. He had been spiralling for a long time, longer than whatever strange experience this white room was. The SHRA, the destruction of the Avengers, the loss of the home he had carved out in the future. When Steve closed his eyes the memory of Tony lying beneath him, a breath away from death, was imprinted onto the insides of his eyelids. And then today, he had started the morning being dragged in chains like a common criminal, been jeered at, threatened, shot. He had fallen, or least that was what it felt like. Steve didn’t know how to process the weirder aspects of today: of jumping from the courthouse to a park, of the strange suit, of being told he was a Commander and it was seven years in the future. It was all just too much.

“I want to speak to Tony,” Steve said slowly, his voice hoarse.

“Sir is currently –” there was a pause “– indisposed at the moment.”

Steve growled, “I don’t care, I want to speak to him. I deserve to face my jailer.”

“You are not a captive, Commander. You are free to leave this room at any time.”

Steve faltered. The small white room didn’t look like a jail cell, and yet Steve had assumed it was a cage, just a pretty one. After all, Steve was a criminal, an attempted murderer. It didn’t make sense that he wasn’t being confined. Especially if he was in one of Tony’s houses.  Not daring to protest, Steve reached for the door. Despite F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s assurances, he was surprised when it opened.

“Friday where is Tony?”

“He is busy at the moment.”

“Is he here, in the building?”

There was a pause as F.R.I.D.A.Y. considered how to respond. Steve almost smiled. “You at might as well tell where he is, otherwise I’m going to start tearing this place apart.”

“He is in his bedroom. The floor above where you are currently located.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said finally.

Steve nodded and started out into the corridor.

“It really would be best not to disturb him.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. continued, her voice lost as Steve closed the bedroom.

Outside the room, stretched a long, unbroken corridor. Like the bedroom Steve had woken up in, it was white, sterile and cold. Steve followed it as it wound lazily upwards, spilling seamlessly onto an enclosed walkway with floor-length glass windows. Steve stopped and stared. Before him, stretched a huge shimmering blue expansion of water, the edges of waves highlighted gold from the sun. In the distance, a city sprawled out across two uneven coastal land masses, connected by a familiar, red bridge. What was Tony doing in San Francisco? He couldn’t remember Tony ever having any ties with the city. Steve didn’t remember Tony mentioning any property here. How had Steve even got here?

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Steve continued on.

Tony’s bedroom was easy to find. It was marked by red, double doors. A shock of colour in the otherwise pristine building. For a moment Steve paused, the hairs on the back of his neck twitching warily. He supposed it was natural, considering their recent history. He steeled himself, preparing for an attack and threw open the door.

The sound of the doors slamming into the wall shattered the peaceful silence of the darkened room, disturbing the sleeping inhabitants. Steve came to a halt in the doorway, unsure what to make of the scene before him.

Tony’s bedroom was a huge sprawling mess. Half empty glasses and bottles were strewn carelessly around the room, littering sideboards and abandoned on the floor. Only one crimson curtain remained covering the windows. The other had been ripped off its railing and dragged like a blood stain across the floor, exposing a starburst of cracks and fractures in the uncovered window. Clothing lay scattered across the floor, dropped between wet footprints and obviously thrown off in a hurry.  Steve’s lip curled up in disgust as his foot met a pair of lacy red underwear.

He made himself step further into the room.

In the centre of the bed was Tony. He was lying face down, his body serpentine and golden as it twisted across the dark sheets. His back was naked, exposed to the room and Steve tried not to think about why he could recognise Tony just from the deep line that cut down the centre of his bare back. Tony wasn’t alone. His face was pressed into the naked breasts of a slender woman and there was a man, tall and blonde curled on his other side. One of the man’s muscular arms was thrown possessively across Tony’s back, fingers moving lazily against Tony’s skin in his sleep.

Steve felt every muscle in his body clench in anger. Tony’s flirtations with lechery had always annoyed him, another failing of a fallible man but at least Tony had never rubbed Steve’s nose in his exploits before. Tony had been up here enjoying himself with this young couple while Steve lay unconscious, bleeding a floor beneath him. Steve had woken up alone, thinking he was in a prison.

“Wake up.” Steve snarled, his voice a thunderous rumble echoing around the room. From the bed, one bright blue eye opened. It met Steve’s gaze, impossibly focused despite the rude awakening.

“Get up,” Steve repeated loudly. His voice had finally stirred the occupants of the bed and the young couple sleepily roused, mumbling confusedly into Tony’s pillow. From the bed, there came a dark, muffled chuckle and then Tony was twisting, moving easily to sit upright in the bed, his arms around the naked occupants of the bed. It was a show, a demonstration. Except Steve didn’t understand what it meant.

“Steve, you’re looking better. Love the suit.” Tony’s voice was a drawl, familiar and warm but with an undercurrent of something darker, sharper than Steve was used to. He sat in his soiled sheets as if it was a throne, the light fell directly onto him, illuminating his face.

Steve went quiet, tracking the man’s familiar features. He had thought he must have dreamed what he had seen before. Imagined it. But the Tony before him was different, flawless.

Even before Steve had fought Tony, the other man had looked tired, weary circles pressed under his eyes, strain lines carved deep into his forehead. That was all gone. It was as if he had lost 15 years, any and all imperfections smoothed out. His skin was radiant, almost glowing gold in the watery bedroom light. His eyes were eerily blue, burning in his face. Even his hair looked thicker, mussed and soft as it curled at the edge of his temples. He looked like an artist’s impression of Tony Stark. A picture rather than a real person.

“What did you do to yourself,” Steve asked quietly.

The curl of Tony’s lips flattened and he huffed in impatience. He shoved the dozing bodies leaning on him roughly, sending them away from him like discarded dolls. They gave cries of surprise, fumbling clumsily across his bed.

“Get out. We’re done here.” Tony told them flatly, not even bothering to glance at them as they stumbled uncertainty in movement.

They were both naked, shameless as they darted about the room, retrieving clothing from the floor. Steve looked upwards, embarrassed for them. His decision was not missed by Tony and he heard the man laughing, the sound cruel.

After what felt like an age, Tony’s bedfellows were ready to go. The woman bent down to retrieve a pair of heels near Steve, hanging the thin heel straps off her index fingers as she padded clumsily onwards. Abruptly she came to a stop, seeming to notice Steve for the first time. She hummed in surprise, canting her head like a curious bird as she looked him over. Her eyes were encircled by the smeared remains of her eyeliner and mascara, pupils were blown wide. She couldn’t have been more than 21.

 “Did you know you look just like Captain America?” she asked Steve softly. Behind them, Tony let out a huge bellow of laughter, the sound sharp and whip-like.

“Come on, Em.” The man said, taking her by the elbow and guiding her to the door.

“Bye Tony.” The girl said dreamily as she disappeared out the door.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.  make sure they leave,” Tony ordered.

“Yes, Boss.”

Steve had been staring at the empty door but turned just in time to see Tony swing himself off the end of the bed and stand up.

“Jesus.” Steve hissed. Like his bedfellows, Tony was completely naked, shameless as he stood bare in front of Steve. His eyes slanted off to the side of the room, his cheeks burning. “Put some clothes on!”

Tony smirked, “And why would I do that? We both know you want to look. I don’t mind.”

“Tony, please for the love of-“

“Fine, fine.” Tony waved a hand at him and shimmied into a pair of loose trousers. He didn’t bother to put a top on but Steve didn’t dare press his luck. “You know, I forgot how much of a prude you could be.”

“Tony…”

“And, I’ve got to say, I absolutely haven’t missed that holier-than-thou attitude of yours.”

“Tony, stop.” Steve’s voice was rising, edged with anger. “What is going on? Friday says it’s March 2015 and we’re in San Francisco and I’m not healing. Am a criminal? Are you my jailer? What happened to my trial? To the SHRA? How long have I been asleep? You look different and you’re sleeping around again? You’re sleeping with men?”

The last comment slipped out before Steve could stop it, a final note in his stream of consciousness. He snapped his jaw shut in embarrassment. He didn’t even know why he had commented on that. He had known for a while that Tony was bisexual, he had heard enough about Tony’s relationship with Tiberius Stone to draw conclusions about Tony’s dating history before the Avengers. But despite knowing, Steve had never seen Tony’s relationships with men personally. The carousel of admirers in and out of Tony’s bed had always been female only. Steve didn’t know why seeing the blond-haired man in Tony’s bed had bothered him so much.

Tony paused; his eyes narrowed as he assessed Steve. A shark smile flashed across his features, so brief Steve thought he had imagined it. “You know, I cried myself sick after you died. Sat next to your body and begged for you to come back. I don’t think I took the suit off for months, couldn’t bear to face myself. I blamed myself for everything. Not that I remember it of course. I wonder if bullet wound in your corpse wasn’t quite normal then too. Maybe I was too busy beating myself up to notice.”

“What?” Steve said, lost in confusion. What was Tony talking about? He had never died.

“Have you not figured it out yet, darling?” Tony asked, his voice lingered on the endearment, rolling it across his tongue. “You’re not in Kansas anymore.”

Steve remained silent, gaping.

Tony hummed. His gaze slid down Steve’s body, “You can tell the wound in your side isn’t normal.  It’s not healing like a bullet wound, right?”

Steve placed a hand over the wound, silent as Tony stepped closer, encroaching into Steve’s personal space. Up close, Steve was captured in the blue of Tony’s eyes, they were so bright, electricity captured and sparking inside his irises. Steve had never noticed Tony having such blue eyes before

“It doesn’t heal because it wasn’t a bullet that hit you. At least not a normal bullet.”

Steve made a noise of frustration. “I don’t understand.”

 “Think of the bullet as a hook. You’re a fish on the line, being dragged around.”

“Dragging me around where?”

Tony smirked, his teeth gleaming and sharp. “Darling, you got hit by that bullet seven years ago.”

Steve took a step backward, suddenly cold. Tony was still playing this game, still messing with him just as he had been doing in the white room with F.R.I.D.A.Y. “That’s not possible.” He retorted.

“I mean, the science is a little bit questionable admittedly,” Tony said dismissively, uncaring in the face of Steve’s panic. “But by science or magic, here you are.”

Steve made a noise of frustration. His anger spilled over and he grabbed Tony by the arm, reeling him in. Tony seemed amused rather scared, tipping himself forward into Steve. Steve’s fingers dug into Tony’s bare flesh hard enough that he could feel the heat of the bruises already blossoming beneath his fingers. “Stop messing around. What are you playing at!”

“Trust me, as much I like the idea of playing with you. I’m not making this up. Think about it, Steve, you appeared out of thin air in the middle of a park in San Francisco. You have a wound you can’t heal from. You’re in a different city. Look at me, I’m not the same Tony you left behind right.”

Steve wavered. Those bits at least were true. The differences in Tony’s face were undeniable, unquestionable. But time travel?  “

Tony rolled his eyes at Steve’s obvious uncertainty. He turned away from Steve. “F.R.I.D.A.Y bring up today’s news feed.”

On the far wall, a television feed flickered into life.

“ – now what do you get when you combine an abandoned kitten, a children’s choir and a retired race car driver? Brian, our features reporter, is here to tell us more.”

Steve let the voices faded away into mindless chatter in the background, his attention instead fixated on the small bright banner at the corner of the screen: 16/04/2015. He shook his head, “You could be altering the feed.”

“Why would I?” Tony asked, sounding for the first time something other than amused. “Why would I mess with your head after I saved your life!”

Steve’s hand went to the wound at his side and Tony met his gaze, his eyes burning brilliant, blue hot.

“Yeah, I saved your life. Without me, you would have bled out in the park with your hands tied behind your back. You’re welcome by the way.”

Steve released Tony’s arm, wincing at the red band he had left in his wake. “Sorry.” He mumbled, not sure if he was apologising for the bruise, or for not thanking Tony for his help or for something more.

Tony looked unimpressed. “I forgot how poorly you adjust to time travel.”

“If what you are saying is true. And I’m still not sure I believe you. Then what happens now? How do I get back?”

Tony shrugged, “Hard to know. Maybe you’ll snap right back to your own time or maybe you’ll be keelhauled around the space-time continuum for a bit first. You’d think this would be something Rogers would have mentioned to his team.”

Steve opened his mouth, another question unfurling across his tongue only to stop as pain shot through his side. He inhaled in surprise as it rippled through his body, the shock of it sending him stumbling across the bedroom floor.

Before he could fall, Tony was at his side, sliding under his arm, holding him upright. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you. Stay with me,” Tony said. He was almost cooing, the words soothing. He moved them, somehow easily manhandling Steve so could lie down on Tony’s bed. Steve stared up at him, panting in exertion. The pain was fading, simmering beneath the surface.

“Looks like you need a few more tweaks before you’re roadworthy,” Tony told him, fingers skimming Steve’s sides, measuring the wound lightly. The strange monster under Steve’s skin flexed, rippled at Tony’s touch like a dog wagging its tail.

“What did you do to me,” Steve asked him breathlessly. Tony ignored him, his features sharp, intent as he examined Steve. Steve reached out, grabbing Tony’s wrist. “Tony, what did you do to me.” He repeated; his voice hard.

Tony looked at him; his eyes were electric blue in a perfect, unblemished face. Steve had always thought Tony was handsome, unfairly so but this version of him was so perfect, almost inhuman.

“I’m making your better. Superior.” Tony told him, “Like me.”


	3. Chapter 2

The morning Steve had been led up those courthouse steps, he had let go of Tony. Given him up, like one would release a bird to the wild.

Through most of the fighting and the SHRA, some part of him had clung onto Tony, clung onto the belief that their friendship could weather anything. He had believed that the bond between them – stronger than brotherhood, more complicated than friendship would always be there. But after Steve had almost killed Tony, after seeing the violence, the ugliness they inspired in each other Steve had realised he was wrong. There had been too much anger and violence. It had poisoned everything between them and they had nearly ruined each other. So, Steve had let Tony go and given up the belief that they would ever be able to return to how things used to be. But now….

Steve snapped back into consciousness.

His body was humming, vibrating with renewed health. He breathed deeply in relief, almost smiling. Steve had been vaguely aware of Tony moving around him, tweaking the nanobots that were holding his wounded body together, tracking his vitals. At points the pain had been all-encompassing, swallowing him whole and taking him somewhere cold and dark and far away. Tony had been at side throughout it. There had been many times during the Avengers when they would stay with each other while one of them was injured. This Tony was made of sharp, unfamiliar edges but he had stayed. Steve hadn’t thought he would ever get that again.

Steve sat up carefully, flexing and stretching gently. He had been laid out across Tony’s bed, left alone to sleep. The wound in his side was radiating heat, hardened by the nanobots but the pain was reduced, the injury smaller. Steve poked at his side gingerly.

“Don’t poke it too hard. It’s a high-tech band-aid, not a miracle cure.” Tony grumbled as he came back into the room.

Steve twisted, the sharp movement sending a faint warning twinge running up his side. Tony had changed, clothed himself in something tightly fitted and dark. It covered him up to the neck and yet it seemed somehow indecent, clinging to every curve and muscle the man owned. It seemed to Steve that every outfit this Tony wore was vaguely indecent.

“Are we friends?” Steve blurted, his cheeks heating at the sudden burst of emotion.

Tony looked at him, his face thoughtful. “Is there a reason we wouldn’t be?”

 Steve swallowed, “Less than a day ago we were on opposite sides of a war. I nearly killed you.”

“What’s a little attempted murder between friends.” Tony rolled the word friends over his tongue, drawing out the vowels until it the word was soft and stretched out like toffee, slippery in his mouth. It felt like a challenge, a dare.

Steve looked away, frowning, “Are we? Are we friends here?”

Tony smiled, the silence stretching out between them.

“We should do something fun,” Tony said finally, voice airy. He gestured at Steve to follow him, already starting to walk away from Steve. “Your miserable looking face is really starting to bore me. Keep frowning like that and it will stick you know.”

“Tony…”

“No, really. Come on, there is something I want to show you.” He stalked out of the room, not looking to see if Steve was following. Steve sighed but chased after him, walking distractedly as they emerged into a huge open plan living room. Like the rest of Tony’s new home, it was sleek, richly decorated but impersonal. Steve doubted Tony had lived here very long.

Tony waved a hand at the dark screen and it snapped to life. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., show me Steve Rogers.”

The picture on the wall focused and Steve blinked at his own curious face. He titled his head and the image of him on screen copied the move. Snorting in realisation, Steve waved cheerfully at himself.

Tony rolled his eyes. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., the other Steve Rogers.”

 A grainy surveillance video of an old man filled the screen. He was walked slowly, a baseball cap pulled low over his ears; his face tucked into his collar. Steve frowned, unable to make out the man’s face. Evidence of fitness lingered in his broad shoulders, in the thickness of his arms. But old age had stolen the steadiness from his limbs and his liver marked hands shook as he reached out to pull his oversized jacket tighter around himself. The man turned, staring directly into the camera.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath of recognition. His own face stared back at him. His features, worn, withered away by age.  A vision of himself fading away. The man in the video took a right down a side street, his back to the camera once more.

Steve turned to find Tony watching him, his expression unreadable.

“There was a battle, there’s always a battle. He won but not before they deactivated the serum. Without it, he rapidly aged. He’s still fighting, you know. Backend coordination. A Commander now.”

Steve looked down at his hands, seeing the other Steve’s withered, liver marked fingers overlaid over his own. He was wearing the other’s man suit; a Commander’s suit.

“I can fix him.” Tony finished.

Steve looked up. Tony eyes had moved, shifting away from Steve to focus on the screen, on his Steve. The other Steve, the old Steve was walking up a set of stairs, each step slow and painful looking. “I made an extremis strand just for him.”

Steve smiled grimly, already knowing what had happened. Already knowing what his reaction would be to Tony’s offer. “He said no.”

Tony smiled, something sharp and dangerous in the curl of his mouth, “There’s time yet.”

“Why did you show me this?” Steve asked, “Shouldn’t you be trying to keep this a secret, stop me messing up the future?”

Tony shrugged, “Mess it up. It sucks anyway.” He threw himself onto a huge leather couch, sprawling out across it like a cat. “I’m telling you because you asked me if we were friends.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, not quite getting how this answered his question.

“You should know there is no straight answer to that question. But whatever we are, I can’t imagine him not being here with me.” Tony looked up at Steve, his electric blue eyes dark beneath the heavy sweep of his eyelashes. “I want you with me.”

Steve hesitated. “You know I’m not him, right?”

Tony reached into his pocket, holding out a sad looking photograph. It was the same one he had been looking at in the park when Steve had first seen him. “You are,” he said as he handed it to Steve.

Steve made a quiet noise of surprise, his fingers tightening longingly around the photograph. t was a picture of him and Tony back when they had first started the Avengers. He and Tony were pressed in close, eyes crinkling in laughter. Tony’s face was directed outwards, towards the viewer but Steve’s attention was on his companion, his expression soft as he watched Tony laugh.

Steve's fingers were brushing the edges of the picture up and down, unable to look away. They were so young; things had been so easy between them. So good. A tanned hand reached out, gently resting on his moving fingers, drawing his attention. Tony was stood next to him. He was close enough that Steve could feel the heat coming off his skin, see the movement in the dip between his collarbones as he breathed.

“Stay with me, for a little while,” Tony said softly. Despite his quiet voice, it came out as more of a statement, as if there was never any question that Steve wouldn’t want to remain with him. “Let me help you. Maybe you can help me?”

Tony was pressing in closer, his lips opened slightly, flushed with blood. His eyes were half-lidded; his perfect skin glowing. He was golden, impossibly beautiful. His entire attention focused, like a sunbeam on Steve. Steve inhaled quietly, something stirring dark and unacknowledged in his gut. He swallowed thickly, nodding. “OK.”

 Tony’s smiled. For a moment his expression flickered – blink-and-you-miss- it-quick; his soft smile replaced by something hungry and cold. A predator’s grin.

* * *

 

For the rest of the day, Steve remained with Tony.

It was easy to be with the man. He was sharp and sometimes strangely cold, different in ways that made Steve’s chest hurt. But he retained Tony’s magnetism; that special type of charisma that had drawn people to him his entire life; that made them worship him, love him. Steve felt drunk on Tony’s attention. He was a man drowning after so long without water. Gods, he had missed this, missed Tony

They sat lazing on the couch, Steve soaking in the information Tony shared. How SHRA was over, how the Avengers had reformed. Tony explained he was in San Francisco to launch a new product.

“Just temporary, darling.” He drawled; legs tucked up neatly beneath him. “I’ll be expanding soon. I plan to go back to my Steve: to help him.”

“You miss him,” Steve said. They were sat close, facing each other from opposite ends of the couch. In the background, the TV was playing music, something orchestral, soothing. The lights around them were dim, soft. The sleek, white room felt almost cosy, inviting.

Tony’s eyes were so blue, sparking electricity. “It just isn’t the same doing this alone.”

“But the serum…”

Tony hummed slowly, thoughtfully. He smiled, the sharp edges of his incisors gleaming in the soft light. “Oh, I have a few ideas about how to fix that.”

Steve laughed, “Of course you do.”

Tony looked like he was going to say more when a sharp alarm sounded around the room. Steve jumped to his feet, wincing at the pain the movement caused him.

“Sir, the intruder has returned.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. explained over the sirens.

Tony was smiling, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he got to feet. “Honestly some people just don’t know when to stop.” He said, his voice light as if he was telling a joke. But it was one that Steve wasn’t privy to and he felt tension coiling up through his muscles  at the idea that someone had broken into Tony’s home.

“Tony, we can-“ Steve began, ready to fight.

Tony placed a hand on Steve’s chest, pressing down firmly. “Steve, you need to wait here. I can take care of it.”

“But-”

“You’re injured remember,” Tony remarked. “What help would you be to me?”

Steve was quiet, taken aback by the coldness, the sharpness of Tony’s remark. Tony seemed to realise that he had been top brusque and he winced, expression softening.

“Please stay here.” Tony tied, looking up at Steve beseechingly through dark lashes, “You’ve done more than enough.”

Then Tony was gone, moving fast out of the room. In the distance, Steve could hear the blast of repulsors, air whipping as Iron Man flew to meet his enemy.

Steve waited, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Steve was never one to turn away from a fight and it felt wrong to wait here, safe while Tony was fighting. Steve paced the room uneasily. He told himself to trust Tony. If the man said he was fine, Steve should believe him. Trust was the foundation of friendship, he reminded himself. And yet Steve couldn’t shake his feeling of unease.

There was something about the way F.R.I.D.A.Y. had announced the intruder. Neither the A.I. nor Tony had seemed that concerned. If anything, Tony had seemed… excited.

Steve turned back to the TV, seeking a distraction. It was easy to flick the channel over, to find the news station from that morning. The morning news crew from had been replaced by a different pair of cookie cutter presenters, they were eerily similar to their earlier counterparts, with big hair and stapled on smiles. The volume had been turned off and the hosts mouthed soundlessly at Steve.

It didn’t matter. Steve wanted to be able to hear if Tony called out for him. Besides, he had always been good at lip reading,

“Chaotic scenes continue throughout San Francisco following the introduction of a daily fee for Stark’s extremis 2.0.” 

The presenters disappeared, unsteady recorded footage stretching out across the screen. It was a crowd, a twisting mass of bodies, locked together as they struggled. They were shouting at the cameras, desperation written across their faces even as they snarled with anger. The most noticeable thing about them was their appearance. They were impossibly beautiful. Every single one of them was young and lean, capped with full glossy hair and shining teeth. They were like Tony.

Suddenly, a member of the crowd froze. His joints locked up and he folded jerkily inwards as if about to seize.  He shuddered and like scales peeling away, his beauty and youth cracked and dissolved leaving behind a wide-eyed, balding middle-aged man. The crowd paused, their attention captured by the strange metamorphosis. At the sight of the changed man, furious noise broke around across the crowd and they surged closer, their anger newly directed. The man stumbled under their focus, twisting away from flailing limbs and tumbling down to the floor as the raging crowd swallowed him whole.

“There has been no comment from Stark Industries or Tony Stark regarding the pricing of extremis 2.0. or the violence his app has inspired.”  The voice-over continued.

The crowd image changed, replaced by a video of Tony in his sleek silvery suit hovering over the crowd. He was smirking, white teeth sharp and predatory in his face. The crowd pressed towards him, they weren’t fighting like the last video, they were happy, adoring. And yet Steve could see the edges of desperation straining their eyes, the fear in the shakiness of their hands. They worshipped Tony but were scared of him.

“Increasing reports of suicides indicate that many cannot afford extremis, nor can they bear to live without it.”

Steve turned away from the TV. So, this was the product Tony was launching.

Outside San Francisco was a faraway stack of lights and sound, its dark shadow cast across the churning sea.  From Tony’s haven the city looked calm, a slumbering giant. Steve wondered what it would like close up. He pressed his hand against the glass window, suddenly weary. Tony had been strange from the moment Steve had woken up, colder, crueller, cruder. But he had also protected Steve, healed him from a near death experience. Tony had their picture from when they were younger. He had even confessed that he wanted Steve to be by his side. Steve had been so grateful, so willing to ignore the warning signs as long as Tony still wanted him, still valued him. As long as Steve could believe that there was a future in which they could become friends again.

“You really do suit that outfit. It emphasises all your curves.”  Tony’s voice echoed around the penthouse, his footsteps light as he made his way towards Steve. Steve stayed where he was, back to Tony, staring out into the darkness. “Steve?”

On the opposite wall, the flickering fluorescent light of the TV stretched out across the floor. Tony paused, his attention moving understandingly between the TV and Steve’s turned back. He released a small darkly amused sound, his obvious remorselessness like nails on a chalkboard. “Oh dear, what have they said about me now.”

Steve turned around slowly, cold with weary anger. “Tony, what have you done?”

Tony pulled a face. He was leaning casually against the wall, one long leg crossed over the other. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”

Steve scowled, “They’re saying you sold extremis, that most of the city is using it.”

Tony rolled his eyes, unphased at Steve accusation. “I gave the people what they wanted.”

 “They are fighting in the streets; people are killing themselves.” Steve snapped, voice climbing, “they don’t look normal, they look –”

“Superior?”

“-inhuman!”

“Tomato, Tomatho.” Tony huffed, unflinching as Steve stepped forward into his space.

“Tony, extremis is dangerous! You of all people should know that!” Steve could feel himself getting agitated. Tony’s unfeeling response kindled the anger burning inside him. He could feel his fingers twitching and repressed the urge to reach out and shake the other man. Didn’t Tony remember the hallucinations, the overloading of information, the mind control! Did he not care. “Why! Why would you sell it? What were you thinking?!’

“I was thinking that everyone wants to be better looking, younger, stronger,” Tony said, eyes finally meeting Steve’s. His voice was cold, completely heartless.  “Not all of us were lucky enough to be given super soldier serum on a silver platter.”

The muscles in Steve’s jaw twitched, spasming in anger. “Do not compare the two.” He snarled, his hand came out, finger jabbing into Tony’s chest. “I took the serum so I could serve my country. You got an entire city addicted to extremis so you could make a profit.”

“You took the serum because you were a sad, little nobody who would have done anything to be more than what you were.” Tony sneered, “Just like the rest of them.”

“Jesus Christ, Tony!” Steve ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. “What happened to you? This isn’t you! You used to care about people, you used to want to help people!”

Tony tilted his head, those strange electric blue eyes darkening. “Maybe once. But that was before I was shown the truth. Things got a whole lot easier once I realised most people aren’t worth my help.”

Steve stared at Tony, alarm bells ringing. “Who showed you the truth?”

Tony smirked. “Wanda. She changed a lot of us.”

Steve’s jaw flexed, he could feel his hands shaking, anger thrumming him. “This isn’t you. It’s a spell. You’re a good person. You care about people.” He stretched out a hand, “You know something is wrong. Let me help you. We can fix this together. Like old times.”

Tony met Steve’s gaze steadily, the moment stretching out between them. His face was turned up slightly, his eyes huge in his golden, perfect face. For a moment Steve thought Tony wavered, that Steve’s word had got through to him. That Tony was going to take Steve’s hand.

Tony’s laugh snapped like a whip between them. His mouth curled into a sneer. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Nice try though.” He made to walk away; a hand raised towards Steve dismissively as if he could brush him away.

Steve’s hand snapped out, encircling Tony’s bicep, holding him still. Tony looked down at Steve’s hand lazily, his gaze skating back to meet Steve’s eyes. He raised one dark eyebrow questioningly, challengingly.

“Extremis is too dangerous for public usage. You’re putting people at risk.” Steve said, hardening himself, ignoring the flare of wrongness in his gut. “I know you wouldn’t want this.”

“So righteous.” Tony hissed, “I used to admire your conviction, your unwavering sense of right and wrong. Before I understood it was just arrogance.”

Steve’s fingers tightened around Tony’s arm, “You have to stop.”

Tony tilted his head, “I’m pretty sure we just established I don’t have to do anything.”

Steve reeled Tony in towards him, gripping the man’s clothing tight. Tony hung limply from Steve’s fists, tilting his head up towards him, eyes watching him from under the heavy inky sweep of his lashes. Steve swallowed. “If you don’t stop extremis, I will stop you.”

Tony smirked, a snake-smile. “Oh, will you? How will you be doing that? Are you going to beat me into submission again Steve?”

“If I have to.”

Tony’s eyes were so blue, incredibly, impossibly blue. The irises were glowing, bleeding light until his eye sockets were full of blue electricity. Static crackled along Tony’s eyelashes. The hairs on the back of Steve’s arms stood upright, quivering. He tightened his grip on Tony, inhaling sharply as strange liquid metal appeared floating in the air around them. Around Tony. The metal folded and twisted in on itself, lazily flying.

“Tony, what did you do.” Steve breathed. 

“I gave myself some upgrades.” Tony held out his hand and the silvery metal that had been floating in the air flew around him, silver ribbons that coiled and handed until they formed a gauntlet. His glowing blue eyes shifted to red; a warning light.

Tony grinned. It was as if his smile triggered something. The remaining floating metal snapping onto to Tony, hardening into an Iron Man suit.  The strange crown settled across his forehead, reflecting Steve’s furrowed brows back him. Tony grabbed Steve’s wrist, keeping Steve close.  Tony’s eyes were half-lidded, almost flirtatious, his lips twitched. “Let’s see you stop me now.”

 

His fist rammed into Steve’s gut, aimed cruelly at his wound and sinking deep enough that it felt like he had hit Steve’s spine. The power, the force behind the punch lifted Steve off his feet and ripped him away from Tony. Steve landed hard, skidding gracelessly across the polished floor. The pain in his side exploded, tearing through him with such force that he arched, body spasming before dropping limply, broken to the ground. He sucked in a harsh, shocked breath.

Like a predatory sensing weakness, Tony stalked forward, dropping down on top of Steve. He landed heavily in Steve’s lap, legs bracketed Steve’s thighs and his hands pressing hard into each of Steve’s shoulders. Steve stared up at him, trapped and broken. He had a memory of another fight between them. But in that fight it had been Tony who had ended up on his back, staring up at Steve, unable to move.

“Oh, this position seems familiar, doesn’t it?” Tony grinned darkly as if hearing Steve’s thoughts. “I can see why you liked it.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t like it.” Steve gasped, riding another wave of pain.

Tony tutted is disapproval, gently pushing a strand of hair out of Steve’s face. “Don’t lie, Steve. I saw the footage, the look in your eyes. You wanted to hurt me. It must have felt so good, finally managing to shut me up.”

“No…”

Tony’s fingers traced his face, a feather touch against his lips. “There are other ways of shutting me up, other than with your fists you know.”

Steve hissed. He tried to flex, to fight against Tony’s hold but he was unmoveable, a mountain against his strength. Tony grinned, amused and then like a shadow he was gone, leaving Steve abandoned, a broken toy on the floor.

Steve gasped and forced himself upright, his feet unsteady beneath him. He held his side, feeling like he was holding his guts in. He could feel the nanobots squirming, desperately trying to repair the damage. Tony had wandered lazily to the opposite side of the room and was bent over, rummaging through a cupboard. When he turned back towards Steve, he was holding a glass filled with familiar dark amber liquid.

Tony took one long gulp, smacking his lips in satisfaction. He shook the glass in Steve’s direction “You have no idea how much I have been craving this.”

“You’re drinking again?” Steve asked horrified. He had seen this before, seen how it nearly destroyed Tony.

“Well, you’re turning out to be a huge disappointment. It seems only fair I do too.” Tony jeered darkly, raising his glass.

“Tony, please.” Steve said, “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Fight me?” Tony asked, an amused frown flitting across his face. “You think this was a fight?”

He stalked closer; eyes bright and hungry in his golden, inhuman face. “You’re an ant to me.”

Steve steeled himself, jaw twitching in defiance. “Then why don’t you crush me.”

Tony laughed, breaking the steely intensity of his expression. He shrugged, “Well you have something I want. Don’t worry, it won’t take long now.”

Steve frowned, mind whirling. His wound pulsed, nanobots knitting him together, healing. Or so he thought. He reached down the monster under his skin spiking. Steve inhaled sharply, glaring up at Tony.  “What are you doing to me? You said you were helping me.”

“Oh, I am,” Tony said. The Iron Man suit had melted off his skin, liquid metal floating around him as started to circle Steve. “I’m just helping myself to a little something extra on the side. It’s a win-win situation. I keep you alive and you give me the secrets to your super serum.”

“The serum? But why!” Steve asked. He turned, trying to keep Tony in his line of vision. Not trusting the other man unless he could see him. Not that it would do Steve much good. “Are you planning on selling that too?”

Tony’s lips twitched, teeth flashing. “I have only one recipient for the serum in mind.”

Steve faltered, realisation making his understanding of the man before him shift again. This Tony was like sand, impossible to get a grip on. Impossible to understand. “You want to make a serum for your Steve.”

“I want to sell him the serum.” Tony corrected, “I want him in my debt. By my side, at my feet. Either would work.”

“You’re deluded.” Steve retorted, “He won’t pay you for the serum.”

Tony sneered, “We’ll see.”

“I don’t understand,” Steve said, voice raising from familiar betrayal. This wasn’t the real Tony he reminded himself, this as Wanda, a spell. He tried to reason with Tony, to bring out the real man.  “You said you were friends. What you’re doing with extremis, with the serum – he’d hate that. You will hurt him.”

Tony’s eyes were blue again, sparking and electric in his face. “Oh Steve, haven’t you learnt yet that we all we do is hurt is each other? It’s basically a game at this point.”

“That’s not true.” Steve snapped back.

Tony laughed, “We are fundamentally incompatible, we will never share the same beliefs, never want the same things. We will always disappoint and hurt each other. And yet we can’t stay away, we don’t want to stay away. We’re magnets, drawn and repulsed by each other. We bring out the worst in each other Steve.”

Steve shook his head, “That isn’t true. We were Avengers together before, we were good together. We can help each other be better.”

Tony stepped closer, footsteps loud against the polished floor. The liquid metal around him was blurring, disintegrating. “You tried to kill me, remember. The violence, the possessiveness. It’s not normal.  That is what we do to each other.”

Steve tried to speak, to take a step forward but his foot slipped, sinking into, through the floor. Around him the room was fading, darkness encroaching. Steve fell, spinning downwards as if tumbling into dark waves. He reached out, tried to grasp reality and watched as it dissolved between his fingers.

In the darkness, Tony’s electric blue eyes shone like beacons, watching him fall away. His voice followed Steve, faint snatches of one final statement.

“We will destroy each other eventually.”

 


	4. Chapter 3

**Interlude One**

_“Steve? Steve? Can you hear? Steve, you’ve got to wake up –”_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The sun was heavy in the sky, swollen like an overripe orange. The heat of it made the air syrup-liquid, chokingly thick as Steve took a huge shuddering breath, eyes snapping open and closing shut as they looked directly into the sun. For a moment he thought he heard a voice, calling out his name but his hearing settled, revealing only the loud lazy chirping of crickets. On either side of him was a long, empty highway. The air was shimmering from the heat, making it appear as the road was moving, rippling like water. The sun had baked the tarmac, leaving it bubbling, burning his skin through his suit.

Before Steve could get his bearings, there was a sharp unexpected poke into his gut.

“Are you dead?” A small voice asked, the morbid query accompanied by another prod.

“I don’t know.” Steve groaned and tilted his head to face his attacker. A small, dark-haired figure was stood off to one side, holding a branch between them cautiously. At Steve’s recovery, he jumped back, stick raised aloft warningly.

It was a child, barely bigger than a toddler with a head of wild dark curls and big, tired looking eyes. He was curiously not wearing shoes and had to keep hopping from one foot to another, trying to avoid standing on the molten tarmac too long. Deciding the child wasn’t an immediate threat, Steve relaxed and sat up gingerly. Other than the road he was lying on, there were no visible landmarks. Sandwiching the highway were fields of swaying corn, stretching out as far as the eye could eye see.

“Where am I?” Steve asked, peering through the bright sunlight.

The boy shrugged “America.”

Steve sighed and frowned at the boy. The child was watching him intently from under his dark curls, his eyes wary. He was, Steve realised guilty, afraid of him. Steve made himself relax, forcing a smile onto his face. Despite his reputation as a family-friendly superhero, Steve had never been great with children. Tony had always been the charmer, a chameleon adapting to his audience. Children loved him, taken in by his childishness, his energy. In comparison, Steve had a habit of making children uncomfortable. They seemed to see the artifice in Steve, to sense that he felt stiff, awkward despite his trained camera smile. Relax, Steve told himself, his internal voice sounding distinctly like Tony.

 “Are you here alone? Who are you here with?”

The boy remained silent, looking more distrustful.

Steve tried a different approach “I didn’t introduce myself, I’m Steve. What’s your name?”

The boy hesitated, obviously weighing up whether he should tell Steve anything. Finally, a small voice mumbled, “Tony.”

As soon as the boy said his name, it was obvious. His dark hair, blue eyes and full mouth were nearly as familiar to Steve as his own face. Fierce intelligence illuminated the boy’s narrow face and Steve recognised the way emotions flashed across his features; a thousand micro expressions moving at the speed of light.

“Stark.” Steve breathed. He remembered the Tony from the early days of the Avengers, the child-charmer. Then the Tony he left beaten and bleeding, braced for a killing blow. And then another Tony with red eyes, and a predator’s grin. If this child was Tony, it meant that the red-eyed Tony hadn’t been lying. Steve was jumping through time. First into the future and now into the past.

The boy took a step back. Panic flared across his face and he raised his stick wobblily. “How did you know my name. Are you with them?”

Steve raised his hands in surrender at the boy’s surge of anxiety. “Whoo, hey. I’m not with anyone.”

Tony didn’t look unconvinced. He was trembling, body turned away as if he was about to run. He was, Steve realised, so scared, profoundly and deeply terrified. More scared than a stranger recognising his name should have made him.

Steve’s gaze sharpened, finally taking in the boy’s full appearance. Tony was wearing an ill-fitting t-shirt and shorts; his bare feet were red and sore looking, raw from walking without shoes across the rough, hot ground. His face was pale, exhausted and hungry looking and there was a bruise starting to form in thin strips of purple across his jaw. As if someone had grabbed his face and shaken him, hard. His wrists and ankles were similarly marked, red and welted. Steve knew marks like that, they were the result of being tied up tight for too long. Anger unfurled inside Steve’s chest. The tiny, child version of Tony had been tied up. His shoes taken off him so he couldn’t run easily. Violence used to scare him into submissive compliance. Steve couldn’t stand bullies and abusers. Especially not child abusers.

Steve forced himself to relax, holding out his hands, “Hey, I’m not here to hurt you. I know your father. I’m here to help you.”

Tony relaxed marginally but remained suspicious. “Then why were you lying in the road?”

Steve winced, “I got into a little trouble. Trusted the wrong person. But I’m here now.”

Tony nodded, accepting this explanation easily. He let the stick fall limply to his side. Steve sighed in relief, the last thing he needed was another Tony trying to fight him.

“I didn’t need help, though,” Tony told him imperiously. “I got away by myself.”

Steve made a humming noise, not trusting himself to ask questions yet. His anger was still bubbling hot beneath his skin. He stood upright slowly. The pain in his side was a hot throbbing knot but it was manageable. Tony had taken his silence as an indication to continue talking and had moved closer, using his stick to gesture as he told his story. Despite the boy’s fear and exhaustion, he was a born performer; sharp and articulate as he talked, his expressive face emoting wildly.

“I broke the ropes and crawled out the window. The bad men didn’t think I would do that because it was so high and they had taken my shoes but I did. And I cut the fuel lines in their truck so they couldn’t come after me.”

“That was really smart,” Steve told Tony and the child beamed up at him, his smile bright despite the grime and bruises littering his face.

“I know. I’m a genius. People underestimate me because I’m small.” Tony continue, hopping from one foot to another. “It’s silly to underestimate people because they’re small. Captain America was small and he ended up being a superhero!”

Steve smiled unwittingly; hell, the kid was cute. They had started walking, moving slowly up the road. Tony was dancing around him, obviously desperate for the company. Steve wondered sadly how long he had been alone, how scared he must have been to find the company of a stranger so pleasing.

“Do you like Captain America?” Steve asked softly.

“Oh yeah.” Tony nodded violently. “He’s the best superhero ever.” Tony peered at Steve’s discreetly from beneath his lashes. “You know, you look a bit like Captain America. But your suit is wrong.”

Steve looked down at himself. He was still wearing the strange navy and blue commanders uniform that the red-eyed Tony had given him. It was sleek and sturdy and he might have liked it in other circumstances but now it felt tainted. His skin crawled in memory. “I don’t like it either.”

Tony’s face twisted and he shifted guiltily. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He mumbled, staring down at his feet. Steve looked down at him softly. Tony was still hoping from one small foot to another, the movement flashing the red, singed soles of his feet. The boy must be in pain and yet hadn’t complained, hadn’t even mentioned his discomfort. He reminded Steve of the Tony he knew, quick to react to the perceived hurts in others but unwilling to share his own pain. There had been many times when Steve had nearly pulled out his hair in frustration after finding out about injuries Tony had kept quiet about. He couldn’t help but wonder sadly where that habit had come from; how young had Tony been when he’d learnt there was no point in telling people when he was hurt.

“Come here,” Steve told the boy, holding out his arms. Tony froze, looking at him wide-eyed and confused. “Your feet are hurt; I can carry you.”

Tony’s shoulder inched up defensively, “I can walk.”

“I know.” Steve told him, “But if you sit on my shoulders, you can be the lookout and we will see if the bad men are coming.”

Tony nodded slowly, “Well, if that would make you feel better.”

“It would.”

Steve picked the boy up easily. He was all skin and bones, a featherweight as he wiggled on Steve’s shoulders. The boy released a sigh of relief, sagging slightly so he was slumped around Steve’s neck and shoulders, chin resting gently on the crown of Steve’s head. “You’re strong.”

“I am.” Steve agreed easily, lips twitching at the awe in Tony’s little voice. Even with his injury, they made fast progress now that Tony was off his feet. The sun was searing, heat prickling Steve’s fair skin but Tony unwittingly provided a little shade for his neck and head. His little feet were swinging gently, heels bouncing off Steve’s uniform.

“I’m going to be strong when I grow up. I’m going to be like you and Captain America. Then no one will ever be able to hurt me again.” Tony told him, fidgeting. Steve’s chest hurt as he listened. “And then I can help other kids too.”

“I think Captain America would think that was really swell,” Steve told him.

“You think?” Tony asked quietly, “My dad says I’m not good like Cap and so I couldn’t be a hero.”

Steve’s jaw twitched. He knew vaguely of Tony’s sometimes fraught relationship with his father. The effects of Howard’s parenting had been felt long after the man died but at least an adult Tony was able to approach his childhood with distance. Hearing this child believe that he was lesser because of the words of his father was hard, it made Steve want to find Howard and have some strong words with the man.

“He’s wrong. I know you’d be an amazing superhero.”

Tony wavered, “I don’t have any powers.”

“My favourite superhero doesn’t have any powers,” Steve told him. “He’s just really smart.”

“I’m really smart too!” Tony said excitedly, “Who is he?”

“He’s called Iron Man. He made some bad choices when he was younger and then worked hard to fix them. He’s is very intelligent. Maybe the smartest man I know. He built himself flying armour and is able to fight just as well as Captain America.”

Tony hummed, “I’ve never heard of him. Is he just a comic book superhero? Because you know Captain America was real and my dad says Cap’s comic books are a load of bullcrap anyway.”

Steve winced at boy swearing but carried on calmly, “Iron Man is a real superhero. I’ve met him.” Steve suddenly had a memory of waking up for the first time in the future, of Tony stood next to him, his face lighting up in absolute joy as Steve blinked awake. In that moment, Steve had thought Tony was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He adjusted the boy on his shoulders, shaking the memory away. “He saved my life. He’s saved a lot of lives.”

“Wow.” Tony breathed into Steve’s hair; he was almost vibrating in excitement. “If you’ve met Iron Man, does that mean you are a superhero as well?”

Steve hesitated. He had blamed Tony for breaking apart the Avengers but had been just as guilty. Maybe more, people had followed him because he was Captain America rather than because they believed in his cause. He had hurt innocent people in that fight, brushed off the damage and the fear he caused as a means to an end. He had hurt Tony, nearly killed him. He remembered what the red-eyed Tony had said, that some part of him had liked it, had liked shutting Tony up.

“Steve?” the boy asked softly, tugging at his hair.

Steve looked up. Tony’s head stretched out over his head, blue eyes peering down at him worriedly. He smiled reassuring up at the child. “I used to be. I’m not sure anymore.”

“I think you – oh hey!” Tony said excitedly, sitting up straight. “I see another road. It’s busy” He pointed to the left, through the cornfield. “We’re nearly there!”

“Good work, lookout,” Steve said, presenting his fist. A small hand bumped against his knuckles excitedly. “Right all we need to do is get there.”

The roar of an engine shot through the quiet air, drowning out the lazily chirping crickets. Tony twisted, a noise of panic escaping him. He gripped Steve’s hair, tugging painfully. “Steve, Steve. It’s them. There’s here! They’ve found me!”

The kid was wiggling, squirming on his shoulders. He slipped and Steve grabbed him quickly before he fell, holding boy protectively against his chest. Steve turned towards the direction of the sound. Storming towards them was a sleek black car, engine screaming like a siren. From the passenger window, a man appeared, stretching until his torso and right arm were visible. He leaned out towards them, a rifle balanced in his hand.

“Shit!” Steve gripped Tony tight and rolled, diving off the road and into the ditch between the tarmac and the corn. A snap of air whipped past them, the bullet hitting the dirt and sending a cloud of dust around them. 

Pain flared up through Steve’s torso, hot fingers ripping through his inside. Steve bit his lip hard enough to bleed, not wanting to scare Tony. His mind raced. With his injury, it was unlikely he would be able to protect Tony and stop a group of men with guns.

“We’re coming for you brat! We’ll cut your feet off so this time you won’t be able to run away!”

Steve placed Tony on his feet quickly, crouching down next him and resting his hands reassuringly on Tony’s shoulder. The boy looked like he might collapse at any moment, terrified shudders were running through him and tears had left long wet runway down his pale face.

 “Please don’t let them take me.  I don’t want to go back.” Tony sobbed, fingers clutching Steve’s suit as if he expected the man to abandon him at any moment.

“They’re not going to touch you. I won’t let them.” Steve told him fiercely, “Do you trust me?”

Tony nodded weakly.

“You saw the other road, right?”

Tony nodded again.

“You need to run to it now. Go through the field and don’t stop until you get there. You need to stop the first car you see, tell them who you are and that you were kidnapped. Tell them you need help, that you are being chased.”

“But, what about you?”

Steve grimaced, “I’m going to stop them”

“But –“

The car was seconds away, close enough that Steve could the snap of guns being cocked. “Tony, you need to go. Go now!”

Tony hesitated; half turned with uncertainty; his face twisted with uneasy. “Will you find me after?”

“Always. Now run.”

Like a hare released from a trap, the boy ran. Scrabbling through the cornfield. In seconds he had disappeared into the cornfield. Gone as if he had never been there. Steve sighed with relief and stood up just as the car skidded to a halt before him.

“The fuck!” He’s gone!” snarled a voice. “How are we meant to negotiate a ransom without something to ransom!”

Steve was silent. He cracked his neck slowly, balancing on the balls of his feet, energy thrumming through his limbs as he waited. He didn’t often think he was a violent man, but he thought he might enjoy teaching these men exactly how scared the child they had kidnapped had been. 

From the car, four men emerged. There was the twitchy, scrawny man from the passenger’s seat, his gun waving in his hands as he gestured angrily. He was strung out on drugs, his pupils blown wide. From the back emerged two silent muscle men; Steve assessed them quickly – they were strong and trained, light on their feet despite their bulk. The driver’s door opened last, a slender, slick, haired man stepping out lazily into the sun. The driver watched Steve carefully, he had a scar on his mouth that had twisted his top lip and made it look like he was permanently sneering.

He cocked his gun at Steve slowly. “You helped the kid.”

“I did.” Steve agreed placidly.

The man smiled without amusement. “Well now you’re going to tell us where he went and if you don’t, things are about to get real unpleasant for you.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “Which one of you left bruises on his face?”

There was a pause, the kidnappers obviously not expecting his reply. “Excuse me?”

“One of you grabbed him by the face and hurt him. Which one of you did it.”

Laughter filtered uneasily through the group. One of silent hired muscle flicked a brief look towards to the scrawny passenger. The look only lasted a second, such a small movement that most would have missed it.

But not Steve.

Like a rocket, Steve threw himself sideways. His fist caught the passenger straight in the face, cold-cocking him. The man was unconscious before he had time to scream, tumbling limply to the floor. Pain flared up across Steve’s torso at the suddenness of the movement, tearing through his torso. He stumbled in shock, only just managing to dodge a fist aimed at his back.

The three other men crowded in on him. For a while Steve held his own, teeth gritted against the pain in his side as he spun between the three men. They cursed under the strength of his blows, learning quickly that they needed to work together to match him. One of the hired muscles had a knife; he twirled it expertly, the serrated edge slashing through Steve’s forearm painfully. Steve hissed and he grabbed the man, wrestling the knife away. He was slow, sluggish with pain and he left his side exposed. Pain erupted down his torso as a punch landed dead centre on his bullet wound. Steve cried out, knees buckling.

“Whoo! What did you do?” one the of the men asked, even as he stomped down hard on Steve’s bent leg.

Steve cried out, completely losing his balance. Before he could stumble upright, the kidnappers had surrounded and were kicking, steel capped boots catching him in the gut and back and head. Steve locked his arms over his head, pain flooding his system. Their hits were nothing compared to the pain ripping through his torso.

The world started to blur between his fingers; Steve’s heart shot up into his throat as if he had fallen suddenly. Realising what was about to happen, he sighed in relief and let himself go limp against the burning tarmac.

“Wow, what’s happening to him!”  one of the men shouted and they stumbled away mumbling fearfully.

“Fuck, he’s…he’s disappearing! Stop him, we need him to find the boy!”

Steve smiled and let himself fall.


	5. Chapter 4

**Interlude Two**

_“Steve, wake up!”_

_Steve tried to turn, to follow the voice. It was Tony, he realised, calling his name desperately, his voice strained with panic. Steve tried to reply, his mouth opening and closing soundless._

_“Please Steve, I need your help. I can’t do this alone.”_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Steve landed in a dumpster.

He groaned in disgust as the stinking back alley sharpened into focus around him, flicking away the rotting banana peel that had landed brown and slimy across his stomach. His head was pounding, the pain made worse by the noise of the city pressing in around him – sirens and music and a senseless chatter of voices. And the smell… Steve pressed his palms to his head wearily. He could feel he nanobots in his side moving sluggish, trying to hold him together. The kidnappers had landed a few solid hits to his body and his body was throbbing, aching with fresh bruises. He really hoped that the red-eyed Tony hadn’t been lying about the bots helping him.

He rubbed his eyes, the strange split-second dream of Tony calling out him, begging his for help lingering list cobwebs. Steve decided it was a fever dream, probably some sort of twisted expression of his own conscience. He just wasn’t sure if he was imagining Tony calling out for his help because of his experiences with child-Tony or because some part of him could only imagining Tony asking for him if he had no other option. Steve grimaced, dropping his hands from his face.

At least the kidnappers hadn’t been able to get hold of child-Tony. The thought of the kid made him smile. With Steve’s recent experiences with SHRA, with red-eyed Tony, it had been easy to forget the aspects of Tony that made Steve like him in the first place, the bits of him that had made him a hero. Child Tony had been a rough diamond, his goodness and intelligence and wit shining through in precious breath-taking glimpses. He wondered if Tony remembered the stranger that had helped him all those years ago. Did time travel even work like that?

Nearby voices suddenly echoed around the alley, dragging Steve out of his thoughts. Two dark shadows had stopped near the entrance, close enough to hear but too far to fully make out their faces.

“Please just a little change? Anything” One man was asking, he was hunched in on himself, hands held out beggingly.

“I said fuck off.” The other man snarled in reply, he forced his way forward, knocking the beggar off his feet. “Fucking drunks and druggies.” The man hissed disappearing back into the street.

Steve winced at the exchange, watching pitifully as the beggar put his head in hands, every line of his body was line with misery, hopelessness. With a sigh, the man rolled upright, unsteady on his feet as he turned in Steve’s alley. Steve tensed as the man staggered into view.

The beggar was wearing what once might have been a nice suit. It was now covered in stains, hanging off his frame as if he had lost a lot of weight too quickly. His trousers were torn, one pale knee flashing through the hole in the material with every step. Shaggy, unbrushed hair hung limply over his face, hidden beneath dirt and unkempt facial hair. And yet, despite his appearance, Steve recognised him instantly.

“Tony.” He said.

Tony tried to turn at the sound of his name but he was unsteady on drunken feet. He lost his balance, falling to the ground, his elbow catching hard on the concrete beneath him. Steve leapt out to his feet, moving to Tony as quickly as his aching body would allow.

“Tony, Tony,” He said, reaching out and righting the man so he was slumped against the slimy alley wall behind him. He had to keep his hands on Tony’s biceps, the man lilting dangerously to the side without his support. Tony’s breath, Steve realised, stank of stale alcohol. Steve’s heart sank.

Tony blinked pale blue eyes at him, barely able to focus. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, his pupils blown wide. After a few moments, he seemed to realise that Steve was crouched next to him and a sad, crumpled smile unfolded across his face. There was a fine layer of dirt covering Tony’s skin, emphasising the lines that appearing in the corners of his eyes as his expression lifted.

“Steve, you found me,” Tony said hoarsely. His gaze flickered past Steve to the grimy, dim alley. “But what are you doing here.”

Steve hesitated, unsure of how to answer. He remembered what the red-eyed Tony had said, that he would be dragged across time. But a pattern was emerging and it all related to Tony. He was being dragged up and down Tony’s life.

He forced himself to smile at the drunk before him, “I’m here to help you.”

Tony snorted and closed his eyes, head leaning back to rest uncaringly against the damp, moss-covered wall. “This is a hallucination, isn’t it?”

“What? No,” Steve protest, his arms still holding Tony upright. “Why would say that?”

Tony’s eyes lifted open once again, pained. “Because the real Steve Rogers doesn’t want anything to do with me at the moment.”

“But –“

“And, only my imagination could come up with a suit like that.”

Steve’ eyes flickered down, remembering the tight, dark navy Commander’s uniform he was wearing. Tony’s gaze followed the tight lines of the suit, humming appreciatively. Steve looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Tony shrugged awkwardly, his cheeks glowingly faintly pink.

“I’m still here to help,” Steve told him, at a loss for what else to do.

Tony smiled, his gaze was soft and fond. “Funny, how my conscience decides to show itself as you. You always were the best of us Winghead.”

“You’re a good man too.” Steve protested. The memory of child-Tony saying that he couldn’t be a superhero, that his father had told him he wasn’t good like Captain America was still painfully fresh. Tony had always struggled with self-doubt, a strange contradiction of over-confidence and a crippling lack of self-worth. Somehow Steve had never connected the dots, never thought about who had instilled a sense of worthlessness into Tony so strong that it had become something organic, a fixture of the man’s personality. T

“I’m not a good man,” Tony said, breaking free of Steve’s hands. He stumbled to his feet, batting at Steve’s hands as he tried to help. Tony gestured around the dirty alley, voice pained, angry. “Does this look like a where a good man would be? No.”

“Tony…”

Tony ignored Steve, shoving his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunching up around his ears. He was shivering from the cold, walking unsteadily onwards. Steve followed him, not knowing what else to do.

“Why are you here?” Steve asked quietly, “Why are you drinking?”

“Didn’t you hear? I drank away my company.” Tony mumbled, chin still tucked down into his chest. His tone was scathing, dripping with self-loathing. They had reached the end of the alley and bright fluorescent lights flooded the main road, illuminated Tony’s sunken, haggard looking features. Tony came to a stop and looked across the road, his mouth twisted unhappily, his face crumpling like wet paper. Steve followed his gaze.

There was a billboard, stood proudly atop of the building facing them. Giant red letters facing out to the city. At first, Steve thought it was Tony’s logo: ‘STARK Industries’. But on second glance, he realised it was wrong. It didn’t contain Tony’s name. The A,R and K had been removed, replaced by new letters. ‘STANE Industries’.

“Obadiah Stane,” Steve said with understanding.

“I lost everything. My company, my home. I have nothing left and it’s all my fault. I deserve this.” Tony stopped talking abruptly, his voice lost as he started to retch.

He stumbled away from Steve, balancing himself with shaking hands against the slime-covered stone wall and started to vomit. His back arched painfully like a cat with a hairball, the sharp bumps of his spine straining through his thin shirt. Steve winced; the only thing Tony had in his stomach was alcohol and liquid splattered to the floor, splashing his shoes.

Steve remembered this; he remembered when Tony had lost his company to Obadiah. He knew it had been partly because of Tony’s alcohol problem, but Tony had fixed things. He had stopped drinking and got his company back. Steve’s looked over at Tony, repulsed by the man’s shaking hands and protruding bones. He didn’t remember things being this bad, he didn’t remember Tony losing his home or begging for money on the streets. He didn’t remember Tony’s rock bottom being this low.

Tony stopped vomiting with a gasp of relief. He turned around stiffly, his eyes streamed and laughed at Steve’s expression. “Gees, even my conscience is disgusted with me.”

“No, I-“  Steve forced his face back to neutrality, trying not to look at the spittle staining Tony’s beard. “I just want to help.”

“Cute.” Tony said with a smile and a roll of his eyes, “If you want to help, you can find me a drink. It’s been a long day.”

He started walking again, straight out into the road. Steve lurched after him, grabbing Tony’s arm and dragging him backwards as a car horn screeched angrily past them. He pushed Tony back, almost throwing him against the wall.

“What was that! Are you trying to get yourself killed!”

Tony blinked up at Steve, his eyes wide and shocked. He was holding himself, arms curled defensively across his chest and rubbing at his bicep where Steve had grabbed him. “I don’t think hallucinations are meant to be so corporal.”

“Yeah, well you always did have to do everything better than everyone else.” Steve snapped.

Tony snorted, his lips twitching in amusement. For a moment they were both transported, the alleyway dropping away at the easy, friendly banter. A reminder of the old times, the good times, of working side-by-side as friends. Of being better because they had each other.

Tony’s eyes cleared and he looked away, his expression dropping wearily, guilty. “Why are you here, Steve.” He asked softly, not meeting Steve’s expression. He looked so fragile, curled into himself in his oversized clothing, shivering weakly against the cold.

Steve sighed, “I just want to help you. This isn’t you.” The words rang true as he spoke them. He hated seeing this pitiful version of Tony almost as much as he had hated the maniac who had replaced his friend in the future. Neither were Tony, they were insults to the man he knew. “The Tony Stark I know is a hero, a role model.”

Tony snorted, “Yeah well, this Tony Stark is a pathetic alcoholic with no money and no friends. I’m nobody’s role model.”

Steve scowled, grabbing the man’s shoulder and forcing his attention back towards Steve. Tony’s eyes were bright in his grimy face, a light in the dark. “That’s not true. You are a superhero, a hero. You have spent your entire life trying to atone for past mistakes, to be better. You get knocked down but you always get up, always keep trying. That’s why you’re a role model, a hero.”

“I’m tired. I’m so tired.” Tony confessed, eyes wide, fractured.

“I know. I know.” Steve told him softly. He sighed, and squeezed Tony’s shoulder, letting the man drop his head so he could rest against Steve’s forearm. Tony’s skin was clammy, feverish against his. “But you can do this. I know you can. You’re a hero. You can still help people.”

Tony laughed quietly, the sound grating like an untuned musical note. “The best way I can help people is by disappearing. I screwed over my staff, my friends, the Avengers. I can’t be an Avenger again. Some things you just can’t get past.”

“I don’t believe that. I don’t want to believe.” Steve told him, his fingers flexing into desperate fists. “I believe I can make up for my mistakes and so can you.”

“Yeah, like you’ve ever done anything wrong in your life,” Tony replied dismissively.

Steve struggled for a moment, his silence making Tony look at him curiously. Steve saw another version of the man imposed over this one, a Tony with a beaten face, snarling in defiance as he lay defeated. Telling Steve to ‘finish it.’  Steve swallowed, “I hurt a friend, nearly killed him.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean –“

“I did. I knew what I was doing.” Steve interrupted sharply. His pressed the flats of his hands against his eyes, rubbing the image away desperately. “We were fighting on opposite sides of the war but I still hurt him, I still dream about what I did.”

Tony was quiet, his blue eyes searing into Steve’s face. Steve closed his eyes, unable to look at him. “Afterwards, I told myself that our friendship was over, that we could never recover from what had happened. But I don’t want to believe that anymore. I want to try again.”

Steve swung his gaze back to Tony, his expression fierce, burning with feeling. “So, you need to keep trying. People need you. I need you.”

Steve realised as he spoke, he was telling truth. He did need Tony. He wanted Tony. He remembered the days after Tony had recovered his company as some of the best times Steve had had in the Avengers and at least half of that was down to Tony, to sharing the experience with this man. Tony had been a good superhero. He had been a good friend. He had been Steve’s best friend.

A weak laugh escaped Tony and he looked up at Steve, “Now I know you’re a hallucination. Steve would never say he wanted me.”

“Well, maybe he should,” Steve told him, realising that there was some truth in Tony’s words. He should have told Tony how much he meant to him more often.

He should also have been here with Tony the first time; Steve hadn’t understood how bad Tony’s alcoholic problem was. He had thought of it as a weakness in Tony’s character, a habit like his many sexual liaisons. Steve had dismissed Tony’s illness as a choice. But nothing about this was choice, no one would choose this. Steve felt sick at his own ignorance, his own callousness.

Tony snorted, ignorant to Steve’s tortured internal monologue.  “He can’t. He doesn’t feel the way I feel.” Tony said a strange watery smile flitted over his face: embarrassed, longing.

For a moment, Steve thought he was falling through time again. His heart had stopped, ridden high in his throat. “What.” He managed to croak out, taking an involuntary step forward.

“I love him. Always have. Pretty much since the moment I met him.” Tony’s smile was stretched too tight, skin painfully tugging at his exhausted, purple circled eyes. “Maybe even before. I was a big, big fan of the comic books”

Steve couldn’t breathe. It was if his asthma had returned, stealing the life for him. He could almost feel the puzzle pieces falling into place. The oddities of his and Tony’s relationship suddenly coming into focus. Steve had taken the needling, the joking from the other Avengers for years, brushing off the ‘mom and dad’ nicknames. He had told himself it was a future thing, that the 21st century just wasn’t used to affect between male friends. But for the first time, he truly understood. It was as if the scales had fallen from his eyes.

He had Tony had spent every waking moment together, lived together for years. Steve had said they were best friends, brothers, platonic soulmates. He had been wilfully blind, ignoring the most obvious signs. Tony with his never-ending gifts and his willingness to ditch everything and everyone for Steve. And Steve had hated every one of Tony’s girlfriends. And then there was the irritation he had felt when he had seen Tony sleeping with a man. Except his anger hadn’t just been annoyance it had been jealousy.

Even the anger they inspired in each other had been a clue Steve was too blind to see. A lot of superheroes had been for the SHRA but none of them had enraged Steve in quite the same way as Tony. Steve had told himself it was because Tony was his best friend. That Tony should have known better and Steve was so angry because Tony had betrayed him. But Sharon had betrayed him, shot him on those courthouse steps and Steve had barely given her two thoughts. Tony had always been different.

Tony was still talking, his face tilted up towards the night sky, seeking stars that disappeared with the bright city lights. “I’ve always just been too much of a coward to tell him.”

“You’re telling me now,” Steve said, his voice was hoarse, the words felt like they were ripped directly from deep inside him.

Tony laughed and looked over at Steve, “I don’t think it counts when you’re my hallucination.”

“Tony –“

Tony shuddered, body spasming as if he was going to throw up again. He turned away from Steve sharply, leaning against the wall. After a few minutes, the violent shivers passed and Tony slumped, panting with exhaustion.

“Tony.” Steve tried again, reaching out. He made a noise of frustration as he looked down. The edges of his fingers were starting to blur, material dissolving. His vision started to blur. “No, not yet” Steve hissed and took a step forward.

Tony looked over at him, “I guess this is goodbye.”

Steve tried to reply, to tell Tony that he wasn’t alone. That Steve felt the same way, but his tongue had stopped working. He was falling again, the pain curling up through his torso. Tony was fading as well, blurring to just a dark shadow.

“I know you’re not real. But thanks, anyway.” Tony said, his voice getting fainter. “I’ll try for him.”

Steve was dragged under.


	6. Chapter 5

**Interlude Three**

“Steve, please-“

_Steve blinked. In front of him, barely visible was Tony. He was calling Steve’s name, his arm outstretched, reaching for him._

_“Tony!” Steve called back. He was running but Tony seemed to remain just as far away as ever; a distant figure, his voice echoing around Steve._

_“Please Steve, I need you.” Tony’s said. Steve moved faster, pumping his legs until they were burning from the strain. Tony seemed to edge closer, his face emerged slowly from the fog._

_“I knew you would come,” Tony told him; he was smiling so wide it stretched across his entire face. A blue face._

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Steve was still fighting, still straining against the time jump as he landed.

He shot to his feet, nearly careering into a wall. He threw out his hands, catching himself at the last moment. Pain shot through him, ripping down and through his torso at the impact. Steve groaned, sweat breaking out across his skin as he struggled not to collapse, to give into the pain. He reached down gingerly to his skin, his fingers coming back wet.

Every jump seemed to weaken the nanobots just a little more, break down his body that tiny bit further. He was bleeding again, a small, sluggish amount but even that would kill him eventually. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Steve pressed down hard, applying pressure to the wound. He glanced around, a memory lingering at the dusty edges of his mind; of Tony waiting for, bathed in light. Steve shook his, trying to clear as if he was shaking off dust. It wasn’t he place to be thinking about strange, fever induced dreams, he needed to figure out where he was. Even more urgently he needed to stop the bleeding of his strange bullet wound.

Focused on the task at hand, Steve started to search the room, hoping he would stumble across some medical equipment. He was in a bedroom, built sleek and neat and impersonal - a style that was distinctly SHIELD. A few personal items were scattered across the room, spread and mixed in a way that suggested that the room belonged to two people, a couple. Steve ran his fingers across a small stack of books, his eyes drawn to the picture frames that sat next to the bed. He inhaled sharply as he realised who the room belonged to.

There were two photos, framed in narrow silver. The first picture he had seen before held longingly in the hands of the red-eyed Tony – the picture of him and Tony from their early Avengers days, laughing into the camera.  The next picture was new, Steve hadn’t taken this picture yet. It was Steve and Tony again, taken at night with the faint sparkling shimmer of fireworks flashing behind them. Steve had his arm around Tony’s waist, holding him close and Tony had his hand cupping Steve’s cheek, holding him steady as they leaned in closer to kiss.

Steve dropped down on the bed, clutching the picture and staring down at it intently. This was a romantic picture; he and Tony were in a romantic relationship. Steve looked around the room, still holding the photograph tightly. He and Tony were sharing a room, sharing a bed. Heat flared across his cheeks, his mind reeling. It had only been seconds ago that Steve had even realised that there was something more to how he felt about Tony than friendship. This was too much, too fast. Panic scratched at his throat and he swallowed, shoving the photograph back onto the side table. His fingers had left little bloody prints along the silver edge of the frame and Steve cursed, rubbing at it only to smear the blood into faint pink strips.

 “Come on, Pep. What’s the worst that could happen?” The door swung open suddenly, Tony’s voice tumbling loud and familiar into the room. Steve shot to his feet, grimacing at the stab of pain in his side. Tony was distracted, his back turned to the room as he chattered to Pepper. Steve couldn’t see a phone anywhere but he wasn’t surprised, even in his time Tony was started to grow beyond handheld electronics.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. I’ll come down and –” Tony stopped talking abruptly, his mouth falling open in silent surprise as he saw Steve. He gaped like a goldfish before croaking, “I’ll call you back.”

There was a beep as the call disconnected. For a long g moment Steve and Tony stood unmoving, the room between them a chasm of space. Then Tony started to smile; it was a surprised, wonderous expression, lighting up his features. His eyes crinkled in happiness, teeth flashing. He walked towards Steve, and, with an easy familiarity, curled his hands around Steve’s face. Tony’s fingers were hot as they cupped Steve’s cheeks, gentle as they pulled him closer.

Before Steve could protest, his mouth was pressing down into Tony’s. Steve tensed, a little gasp escaping him. Tony’s hands remained on his face, his body pressed hot and hard into his own. Steve reached out automatically to balance the other man, curling his hands around Tony’s narrow hips as the man rocked up onto the balls of his feet. Tony made a pleased noise between them and Steve shuddered, heat unfurling, igniting in his gut. Tony’s lips were soft, impossibly hot. Steve had never kissed a man with facial hair before and found himself distracted by the soft tickling of it against his skin.

He shouldn’t be doing this, Tony obviously thought he was someone else. The thought was cold water over Steve’s increasingly heated head. He made a small noise of protest and detangled them, pulling himself out of Tony’s arms. The other man breathed as they parted, his lips were already started to swell, red and parted invitingly. He was looking up at Steve and Steve’s heart clenched at the obvious affection in his expression. It was so open, so raw.

“I didn’t think you were back for another week,” Tony said, his eyes still half lidded, sultry.

Steve smiled uneasily. “Right. Because I’m on a mission.”

“Yeah,” Tony pulled a face, “For the record, I preferred it when you running backend. At least then I always knew where you were.”

Steve blinked, silent.

Tony tilted his head, his eyebrow quirking. “Are you OK? You sound a bit strange?”

Steve’s face felt like a mask, hiding who he was. Any moment, Tony would look at him and see it, know that he wasn’t right. He smiled, the expression stretching tight and painful at the corner of his lips. “Just tired, it’s been a really long day.”

Tony nodded, the curiosity in his features melting to concern. Steve couldn’t help but compare the man to the others he had met. His eyes judging the lines stretched faintly across his forehead, and the creases pressed into the corners of his eyes. His eyes were normal, familiar warm blue instead of the electric blue but there were lingering hints that not everything was natural. His skin was golden, radiant, his hair thick and threatening to curl around his ears. Steve felt like he had been given a series of puzzle pieces and was trying to piece them together, to figure out the order. He and Tony hadn’t been together during Tony’s time in San Francisco but this Tony hadn’t mentioned the commander's outfit indicating it matched the one the Steve from this time was wearing. That meant they had fixed the red-eyed Tony, broken Wanda’s spell.

A hand wrapped and squeezed comfortingly around his bicep. “How about, I get us some food and we can watch TV and have an early night,” Tony said gently. “I’ll even fend off those pesky SHIELD agents.”

Steve nodded in relief. The fewer people who saw him the better. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

Tony smiled, stepping into Steve’s personal space once again. He leaned up, his lips pressing a fleeting, feather-light kiss to Steve’s mouth. Then he was gone, walking back towards the door with purpose. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve’s fingers had crept up to rest against his mouth, tracing the heat Tony had left behind.  He sighed as the door closed and ran his hands through his hair. Maybe he should just tell Tony what was going on. Obviously, they were on good terms here. Maybe he could help. A childish, weary, part of him rejected the idea – he would most likely be moving on again soon. There was nothing Tony could do. Steve was so tired, he just wanted to rest, to sit down. And He didn’t want Tony to stop looking at him like he had hung the moon.

Steve pushed the thought aside, embarrassed. His suit was started to feel wet and cold as blood continued to escape his wound. One problem at a time, he reminded himself.

To the right was a small en-suite. Steve rummaged through the bathroom mirror, smiling as he found a familiar first aid kit. He gingerly pulled his uniform off his shoulders, leaving the bodysuit half hanging off his hips. The nanobots were all but gone, a few remained twitched across the bullet wound, working hard to drag the torn skin together. Steve knew without them he would have been dead a long time ago but the sight of them still made his skin crawl with unease. The rest of the wound was a gaping red hole, swollen and infected looking. Spiderwebbing out from the wound were dark angular lines, poison running through his system. Steve stared down at his torso, his jaw clenched. He just didn’t understand why he wasn’t healing. Even a base-level human would have clotted.

Not knowing, what else to do. Steve opened up the first aid kit. There was a SHIELD engineered clotting agent for operatives in the field. It would do in a pinch. Steve poured the agent onto his wound with a wince.  It seeped out like foam, sealing the bullet wound under a hardened white cap. Over the top, Steve placed a thick gauze pad, strapping into across his torso. He sighed in relief and leaned over the little sink, his fingers leaving pink marks on the porcelain. It would hold. For now.

“You didn’t tell me you were injured!”

Tony was stood behind him, wide-eyed and clutching takeout in white-knuckled fingers. He dropped the food onto the bed and stepped forward, his hands urgent, seeking as he reached out towards Steve’s injury. Steve grabbed his wrists gently before he could make contact. “I’m fine.”

Hurt flashed across Tony’s face. He sent a stiff smile in Steve’s direction and Steve grimaced, realising he had mis-stepped.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Steve tried.

Tony folded his arms around himself defensively. “I thought we were trying this thing where we didn’t keep secrets from each other. “

Steve winced. Tony’s expression was tight, irritated. It wouldn’t take much for it to slid into suspicion. “I’ll be healed soon.”

“That’s not the point.” Snapped Tony, he took a step back, away from Steve and into the bedroom, running his hands through his hair. “You know, I thought it was a little weird that you were back early, not that you told me where you were going. And then you were acting strange and you didn’t tell me you were wounded –“

“Tony-“

 “Just…I know most of this is my fault. That I kept things from you; secrets that nearly broke us. I know San Francisco is still fresh, even if we don’t talk about it.” Tony made a sound of frustration, pausing in his pacing to turning to face Steve. “But I’m trying, really trying here Steve. I thought you were too.”

Steve went to Tony quickly. It was so easy, felt so right to capture the other man in his arms and pull him close. Tony shivered against Steve, obviously torn between anger and anxiety. Despite the picture-perfect romance they had on the surface, evidence of deep cracks, of past betrayals lingered beneath the surface. And Steve had made them worse. He hated that, kicking himself. He had finally found a time where he and Tony weren’t fighting or apart and he was ruining it. He titled Tony’s face upwards, staring into the man’s blue eyes as if he could convey his sincerity through his expression alone. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

Tony nodded uncertainly, slumping against Steve’s bare chest with a sigh. Steve shivered at the feel of Tony’s face, his facial hair against his exposed skin.

“I really hate fighting with you,” Tony whispered, his arms slipping to hold Steve tight.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“I don’t think I could do it again. Last time nearly destroyed me.” Tony was saying, his voice distant with memories.

“We won’t,” Steve said firmly. He wasn’t sure if he was telling Tony or himself. He closed his eyes, heart finally slowing down. He and Tony were working on the same side. They were together. Finally. “We fixed things.”

Tony nodded and they held each other silently, lost in their own thoughts.

Unable to think of an excuse, Steve let Tony bully him out of his suit and into soft loungewear. He smiled tightly as Tony watched him, his bare feet feeling vulnerable against the carpet. He hadn’t liked the commander’s uniform but at least it had been strong, protective. He had a sudden horrible image of dropping into a war zone in his pyjamas.

“I know you hate crumbs in the sheets but you look like you could do with dinner in bed,” Tony said a plate held out in offering before him. Steve’s stomach made a sudden loud growl, ignored hunger making itself know. Tony laughed at the sound. “I brought extra. I know how much you can eat.”

Steve blushed embarrassed. He wasn’t sure in real time how long he had been jumping through time. Maybe hours, maybe days. He had just been surviving, reacting as best he could to each new situation and trying to stop himself bleeding out. He hadn’t had time to think about hunger or thirst. But now that the food was offered, it was all he could think about.

He took the food from Tony without complaint; halfway through the burger before Tony had even settled on the bed next to him. If he hadn’t of been so engrossed in his food, he would have noticed that was Tony was settling in gently next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

“Wow, you were hungry,” Tony said. Steve made an agreeing noise, cheeks stuffed with food. Tony laughed fondly and switched on the TV facing them from across the room.

Tony chose a sci-fi film, something with snappy dialogue and spaceship fights. Steve didn’t remember ever having seen it before but from the way, Tony commented derisively at the questionable science in the movie it seemed like something of a tradition. Steve finished his food and let his attention be captured by the movie. He was tired, so very tired and it was easy to relax into the sheets, to let go of the hyper-vigilant mode he had been operating in since he had been shot.

Distracted by his thoughts, Steve didn’t notice as Tony wiggled closer, shuffling so he was tucked under Steve’s armpit. Steve let his arm curl around Tony, drawing him closer. The feeling of holding the other man was nice.  Tony pressed a soft, lazy kiss to the edge of Steve’s jaw, lips burning Steve’s skin. His next kiss landed on Steve’s mouth. Steve made a noise of protest, tilting his head. He misjudged the movement and it opened him up for Tony’s advances, the man’s tongue tracing the seam of his lips. Steve breathed in surprise and let Tony kiss him. His moment of indecision kindled the fire in his stomach and blood rushed away from his brain. Steve groaned and kissed Tony back, thoughtlessly chased the feeling. The kiss between them lasted too long. Before Steve even realised it, their kiss had depended from something soft and sleepy to something more aggressive, more desperate.  Steve inhaled sharply as Tony shifted. He was aroused, his hardness pressing against Steve’s leg.

Steve pulled away sharply. Somehow, he had ended up leaning over Tony, half-pressing the other man down into the sheets. Tony blinked up at him in surprise. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his thin t-shirt. He was looking at Steve with hot, wanting eyes.

Steve felt sick. He sat upright, turned away so he could swing his legs over the side of the bed. Away from Tony.

“Steve?” Tony’s voice was quiet.

“Sorry,” Steve said quietly, not sure what he could say. He had taken advantage of Tony, manipulated him, betrayed his trust. Again. “Sorry.”

Tony was silent for a long moment and when he finally said something, there was something fragile, uncertain in his voice. “Is it me?”

“What?” Steve turned to look at him. Tony’s jaw was tight, his eyes turned away from Steve. “no, why-“

“You haven’t wanted to kiss me all night.”

“No. I do, god I really do.” Steve said, and the hunger in his voice seemed to reassure Tony, made his shoulders relax a fraction.

“Then why?”

“I have to leave,” Steve said. It was the truth at least. He didn’t quite know when but he could feel that he had another time jump coming. There was static across his skin, prickling across his tongue. He would be gone before morning.

“Oh.” Tony seemed slightly confused but accepting. “You know that I don’t mind if we-“

Steve made a noise, interrupting Tony before he could say what Steve suspected he was going to. “I mind.” He said firmly and Tony pulled a face but shrugged.

“If you want.”

“I do.”

Tony settled back into the bed. “You can at least sleep next to me before you run off again.”

“Right, yes,” Steve said awkwardly. He gingerly got back into the bed, trying not to flinch as Tony settled back against him.

“Are you sure, you’re OK?” Tony asked after a moment. He sounded tired, uncertain and Steve felt another stab of guilt.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. It’s been a hard day” He made himself relax, drawing Tony to him and holding until the other man relaxed against him with a sigh. Tony’s eyes drooping, his fingers running up and down’s Steve’s arm, petting him, comforting him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

Tony didn’t reply, his breathing had levelled out, slow and heavy as he dropped uneasily into sleep.

Steve sighed. He stared down at Tony’s relaxed, sleeping face. Steve wanted to go home. He wanted to fix things with his Tony. He had this future waiting for him and he wanted it. He wanted it so badly he could almost taste it.

The first Tony he had met had been wrong. They weren’t destined to destroy each other. They could be happy together. Familiar pins and needles shot up his arms, the edges of the room blurring, dissolving slowly.

Steve breathed slowly, pain clenching through him angrily. He gave the Tony is arms one last longing look. “I will fix things.” He promised, the words fading as he was dragged away once more.


	7. Chapter 6

Steve let himself fall, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop the move. He could almost feel the time bullet dragging him onwards, keelhauling him at the red-eyed Tony had mockingly called it. Steve slammed hard to ground. He choked on dusty, hot air, blinking as floating light danced in his vision.

“Shit, shit. I can’t believe it worked. Shit.”

Tony, it was always Tony. Steve couldn’t sense the other man, but he could hear him, swearing and cursing as he circled Steve. The pain in his side was too much for a moment, stealing Steve’s words and leaving him gasping voicelessly like a fish on land. 

“You’re injured. Steve, don’t move. Just let me…” Iron Man stepped into view. This armour was red and gold, an older design with its flat face and big hands. Steve relaxed at the sight of it. Part of him half expected to land back in San Francisco. To be back with the Tony from his first time jump with his snake grin and too blue, electric eyes and his alluring psychopathy.

“Tony,” Steve said as Iron Man’s face appeared leaning over him.  “I’m fine. I just need a moment.”

Iron Man placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing gently for one long moment as if he couldn’t quite bear to let go. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you, Winghead.”

“I haven’t heard that in a while,” Steve said with a smile. He had learnt that his and Tony’s relationship at any given moment could be understood in the way they addressed each other; a thousand complicated, fluctuating feelings contained within a single word. Winghead was a good sign.

The pain in Steve’s side was starting to subside, fading to a familiar, deep ache. He pushed himself upright, blinking in confusion as the room came into view. It was a workshop, or it had been a workshop. Now it seemed part hoarder’s madness, part junkyard. It looked like it had been neglected and Tony never neglected his tech.

“Sorry for the mess.” Iron Man said, a gauntlet hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I really wasn’t expecting company. I mean, I hoped, but I didn’t think it would work.”

“What would work?”

“Bringing you here.”

“You’re the one whose been moving me through time?” Steve asked, his voice hard. He suddenly remembered the dreams, the strange flashes he had experienced between each time jump. Tony’s voice calling out to him, asking for his help. Steve had thought it was his own twisted psyche, unconscious desires or guilt embodied in Tony. He hadn’t thought that Tony might have been behind this, that Tony might have done this to him. After the future he had just come from, Steve couldn’t bear the thought of battling Tony again.

“Yes. Well, no. Not exactly. I didn’t start your journey. That was some other asshole. I just hijacked you…” Iron Man sighed, and the noise was so tired, so defeated. The sound of a man close to giving up. Steve let his anger fall away slowly.

“Tony, what is going on. Where, when am I?”

“The future, probably about as far into the future as you’ve been.” Iron Man looked at Steve, facing him directly for the first time.

There was something wrong with Tony’s face. Steve frowned, trying to understand what he was seeing. The slits of the Iron Man suit exposed Tony’s eyes, a tiny window beyond the armour. But the skin around Tony’s eyes was different. His eyebrows looked strangely blue, his whole face seemed blue in fact.

“Things got bad, Steve. Really, really bad.”

Steve stood up, stepping closer to the suit. He remembered a previous Tony’s off the cuff comment about wearing the suit for months on end, not being able to take it off and face himself. And even before then, Tony had always used the suit to hide his weariness, his injuries, his humanities. Steve sometimes wondered if Tony preferred to be thought of as a machine. Uneasy prickled up the back of Steve’s neck. “Tony, let me see you.”

Inside the Iron Man armour, Tony let out a shaky breath. The helmet flipped up.

For a minute, Steve didn’t understand what he was seeing. Tony was blue. Pale, electric blue. Steve stepped back, moving into a defensive position automatically. Tony started to shimmer, flickering like a light bulb and then the suit was empty and Tony was standing next to Steve, boxy pixels shimmering, smoothing into something fluid and human. Tony stretched out his arms awkwardly; He was translucent. Steve could see the workshop through him.

“You’re...”

“An A.I.” Tony finished.

 

Steve reached out towards Tony’s face. Despite his translucency, there was something so human about him, Steve could see the minute movement of muscles beneath his skin, see the lines under his eyes. He couldn’t, refused to believe that the man before him wasn’t real. His hand came up to Tony’s face, ready to cup the man’s cheek. Steve’s fingers fell through Tony’s face, scattering a waterfall of blue pixels. Tony turned his face away from Steve’s gaze, something flexing in his pale blue jaw. Steve felt something in his chest break and took a step backwards.

This wasn’t Tony. This wasn’t even a person.

“No.” Steve breathed, his voice hollow. He could only imagine one reason why there was an AI of Tony. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. Tony had survived more than anyone, there was no way he could be gone. Not when Steve had only just realised how he felt, only just seen what they could be. It was too cruel for the universe to show him something so wonderful only to snatch it away again in the next breath.

“Steve,”’ The AI shimmered, taking a step forward, his hands held out like Steve was a wild animal he was trying to approach. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

Steve could barely speak, the words wrenched out of him with desperately.  “Then where is he? The real Tony?”   

The AI frowned, mouth twisting, “A little offensive.”

Steve stepped forward, desperate to know. “You said it wasn’t what I was thinking. Then show me, Tony. Take me to him so he can explain.”

“I can’t take you to him.” The AI said slowly, “but I can show you.”

The mismatch of TV and computer screens stacked up in the corner of the room suddenly sparked to life, static filling the room.  Steve turned towards the noise. His eyes tracked the screens quickly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Diagnostics ran across the bottom, heart rate, oxygen intake, brain activity. The rest of the screens were taken up by a close camera video feed of Tony’s sleeping face. Steve felt something in his chest relax, unwind and he released a long, shaking breath. He went to the screens, pressing his fingers to Tony’s pale face. The man’s eyes were moving, a brief flicker beneath his eyelids.

“He’s asleep?”

“He’s in a coma.” The AI said, “Tony was injured and placed himself in a stasis pod to recover. He created me, a failsafe, in case he was incapacitated.”

Steve nodded, it sounded like a very Tony thing to do. “OK, so where is the stasis pod now?”

The AI was quiet, blue face flickering uncomfortably. Steve could barely look at him, everything about him was so human, so painfully like Tony. “That’s why I brought you here.”

In the camera feed, there was movement, a shadowy figure approaching Tony’s pod. There was something familiar in the man’s gait. Steve recognised the man’s soft, deliberate footsteps as he approached Tony’s sleeping body. Steve leaned forward, trying to make out who it was.

“Shit...” the AI’s voice was a whisper behind him. He hurried forward, his hand going uselessly through Steve’s shoulder. A flutter of electricity crackled over Steve’s skin, making the hairs stand on end across the back of his neck.

“Steve, you don’t want to see this….”  The AI was saying, voice rising with warning. Steve ignored him, batting the A.I. away as if he was an annoying fly.

The figure on the screen bent down, his face swimming into focus as he leaned close to the pod. Steve blinked in confusion. It was his own face. He recognised the clenched, sharp lines of his own jaw, his way his pale eyebrows drew up tight in frustration. It was expression Steve had seen on his own face a hundred times. The other Steve’s eyes were bright, so excited they were almost reflective as he peered into the glass of Tony’s pod. His mouth quirked, a strange twist pulling at his lips. A sneer.

He leaned back. And Steve understood.

Steve took his hands off the screen, skin crawling with repulsion. “Impossible.” He said, his voice echoing breathlessly in the huge lab.

The Steve on screen was wearing black. The suit was tight and protective like his Captain America outfit, like his commander outfit. But the star motif was gone. It was all gone.

In its place was a red skull, tentacles curling down. The symbol of Hydra.

“Welcome to Hydra, Tony.” Steve was saying on screen, his hand pressed to the glass, “I think it’s time you woke up.”

Steve wasn’t sure how long he stood silent and unmoving, staring at the screen. At some point, the video feed went dark. The comatose Tony and the Hydra Captain America disappearing like a bad dream. But Steve found he still couldn’t move.

He didn’t understand.

There was just no way he was Hydra. Steve had spent his entire life fighting, struggling against them. And yet he couldn’t deny what he had seen. Couldn’t un-see the cruel, sneer on his own face. A perfect copy of the expression he had seen on the faces of a thousand vicious Hydra agents.

There a pinch, a shock of static electricity against his shoulder, jolting him literally from his thoughts.

“Sorry,” AI Tony said, the pixels of his fingers breaking apart and reforming as he moved his hand away from Steve. “I forgot I can’t touch sometimes.”

“I’m not Hydra,” Steve said flatly, barely hearing the A.I.

“I know.”

“I would never...” Steve turned the face, Tony, blinking at weak blue light pouring off the AI. He shook his head, jaw clenching. “I would never willing join Hydra.”

“I know. Steve’s memories were rewritten. Reality was changed. They made him think he was a Hydra sleeper cell.” Tony’s voice was slow, controlled as if this was an explanation about just another one of the enemies they had faced together. But Steve could hear the edge to his words, the curtness to his explanation. This AI version of Tony may have had more time to acclimatise to the reality of a Hydra loyal Steve but it didn’t mean he was dealing with it any better than Steve was.

Steve’s jaw clicked, swallowing the explanation uncomfortably. “What happen?”

Tony hesitated, continuing with a sigh at Steve’s fierce look. He ran his hands through his hair, blue pixels blurring together, jumbling up before they reformed. It made his hair look like it was floating, a halo around his face. “The Chitarui were coming. Steve sent our most powerful fighters to space, to intercept them before they came here.”

A muscle twitched in Tony’s jaw, eyes moving guilty.  “I made him a forcefield to go around the earth to stop the Chitarui getting in. I didn’t realise, I was locking us in too. If I hadn’t set up the Defence Shield, he wouldn’t have been able to take control. Carol, Quasar - they all would be here and not locked out in space fighting a war they can’t win.”

Steve could feel his insides aching, twisted and knotted in pain. This Tony may have been an AI but he had inherited Tony’s all too human ability to blame himself for everything. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have known!” The AI snapped, “I helped him. And now Manhattan is trapped in the darkforce dimension. Steve is the ruler of Hydra; the Hydra Supreme. He has a team of superheroes working for him. Those of us that he hasn’t captured are scurrying like rats, hiding in shadows. And I… I can’t even touch anything.”

The AI flung out his hand. His arm sliced through the consoles, blue pixels wobbling out of existence. He sighed, defeated. The blue outline of his arm reformed quickly, blue light twirling like ribbons back into skin and flesh.

Steve wanted to touch him, to hold him. At least to rest a hand on his shoulder. How lonely it must be to never feel another person’s skin. And Tony has always been so tactile; he had always been the first one to rest his hand on Steve’s shoulder, to throw his arm around the others Avengers.  Steve curled his fingers uptight, stopping himself for reaching out. “It wasn’t your fault. And now I’m here and we’re going to stop him. Together.”

Tony smiled, a small, weary thing that flitted across his face. “I can’t tell you how much I have wanted to hear you say that.”

Steve smiled back at him and then glanced down, realising for the first time since he got here that he was still in pyjamas and slippers. He coughed awkwardly, toes wiggling against the cold floor. “There might be a few things I need first.”

* * *

 

Tony’s inhumanness was painfully apparent as he fumbled around the workshop, searching for food and drink he obviously hadn’t thought about in a long time. Eventually, he found a stash of cardboard tasting protein bars and stale water. Steve took them without complaint, politely ignoring Tony embarrassed grimace.

As Steve ate and dozed on a lumpy cot in the corner of the room, Tony was a blur of activity near his mismatched comms station, sifting through data, running through orders. He was untiring, still in the same position when Steve woke up as he had been when he went to sleep.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, stretching slowly. The wound in his side was a deep throbbing pain and his back was stiff, muscles sore from hold himself tense for so long.

Tony blinked at Steve blankly. There was a data stream running through his pupils, making his eyes move and twist in his face. He blinked once more, his features settling back to normal. Or as normal as they could be for an A.I. made of light.

“We’re looking for the cosmic cube shards.” Tony’s expression was stilted, uncomfortable. “I’m coordinating the others, not much use outside the workshop.”

Steve didn’t say anything, settling down next to Tony in a lumpy office chair that groaned worrying under his weight. He resisted the urge to reach out for the A.I., to soothe away the obvious frustration lingering behind his words.

“And the cosmic cube is what made your Steve think he was Hydra?”

Tony nodded, his fingers twitching with unspent energy. “I think if we put the cube back together, we can fix him. I have everyone looking for the shards.”

“Everyone?”

“The Avengers.” Tony said, and his lip quirking slightly, “the Defenders. Pretty much anyone who isn’t fighting Hydra’s forces directly.”

“I didn’t realise there were so many people fighting for you,” Steve said softly.

“Not me. For you. Captain America means a lot to people, they want to help fix things.” Tony had turned to face him, moving so close that if he had been human Steve would have felt the heat off his skin.

“And me? What can I do?” Steve asked, feeling for the first time uncertain, doubtful. He was in pain, weakened, exhausted and he might disappear at any moment, pulled away again through time. “Am I here to fight him or find the cosmic cube?”

Tony’s expression wavered, blue pixels rippling. “Neither actually.”

Steve frowned in confusion.

Tony glanced back at the screen and it flickered to life. The human Tony’s face filled up the screen once again, his eyes moving back and forth rapidly beneath the delicate skin of his eyelids.

“Oh.” Steve breathed in understanding. “You want me to save him?”

 “As far as everyone else is aware Tony is in a coma, safe and hidden at one of his properties. But three days ago, one of the alarms on the pod went off. Steve found him. He’s trying to wake Tony up.”

The image of the screen changed; Tony’s face replaced by the Triskelion. It loomed against the sky, blocking the sun. Seared into the pale walls like a brand was the dark symbol of Hydra. Steve’s jaw clenched in anger at the sight of it. Hydra had taken Shield’s most secure base, because of him.

“My locators show that he has Tony in the Triskelion.” Tony continued softly.

“Why haven’t you sent people in after him?” Steve asked, his voice sharp. If Hydra had had Tony for three days, they should have been going after him, rescuing him before something bad happened.

Tony shook his head, “The Triskelion is a fortress, hundreds of guards and DNA scanners at every door.  We don’t have the manpower or the resource for a rescue mission.”

“You should have found the resource!” Steve pressed; he could feel himself getting agitated, angry. It was a confusing feeling, considering he was getting angry on behalf of Tony but was fighting with a different Tony. “Steve is affected by Hydra, he might hurt Tony!”

Tony’s face twitched, a minuscule movement. When he finally replied, his words were carefully, delicately chosen. “I don’t think Steve would hurt him. Tony is probably as safe as anyone could be.”

“What? Did you miss the bit where he is Hydra?”

“No…” Tony dragged the word out. His eyes when they met Steve’s were piercing, stripping away the walls Steve had built up around himself.  “but from what I’ve seen, being Hydra hasn’t changed Steve’s feelings for Tony.”

Steve pulled away, recoiling as if he’d been struck. It had made him sick to see himself as Hydra, to hear how easy it had been for him to became evil. But he had drawn a line between them: this evil version of Steve was something entirely alien, different to himself. Knowing that other Steve could share his feelings for Tony was horrifying, disgusting.

“You’ve heard him say that?” Steve asked finally, his voice hoarse.

“No in as many words, but he’s talked about getting Tony to join Hydra, to join him.” The AI paused, choosing his words carefully. “I need you to get Tony out of there before he manages it.”

Steve scowled, “Tony would never join Hydra.”

“No, but he would follow Steve.”

 “I think you must be missing some memories if you think that Tony would blindly follow me.” Steve snorted.

Tony scoffed, his eyes rolling. “Firstly, you assume Hydra Steve would be honest. And secondly, things are different now. Before Tony went into the coma, he and Steve were together.”

Steve looked down at his hands, remembering his previous time jump and the loving if the uneasy relationship between himself and Tony that he had found there. He remembered Tony’s fragility, the self-doubt and neediness in him. It would be easy for Hydra Cap to manipulate that, to twist it. He clenched his fists together. “Tell me what I need to do.”

The AI smiled grimly at him, “You need to get dressed.”

Steve held his Captain America uniform like a long-lost friend, resisting the urge to press his face into the hardened Kevlar. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had last worn it, he’d been a different person.

“Do you want me to leave you two alone?” Tony asked, one blue eyebrow quirked.

Steve clutched the suit to his chest, pulling a face of exaggerated offense. “Shut your mouth.”

Tony laughed; the sound almost human. “Right put it on, let me see if it fits.”

Steve obeyed, tugging off his shirt gingery. Tony turned away from him politely making Steve wonder to what his actions were driven by coding and what was a distinct choice made the A.I. Steve had often wondered the same about J.A.R.V.I.S. and F.R.I.D.A.Y. – both A.I.s had acted so human that the rare glimpses of their true, machine nature had always felt like a troubling surprise. Tony’s AI was another level beyond them, he was so, so human. Troubled, unhappy in a way that neither J.A.R.V.I.S. and F.R.I.D.A.Y. had ever been. Steve scoffed, smiling to himself. Tony would call him a pessimistic if he tried to explain that humanity was evident in their ability to be dissatisfied. Distracted by his thoughts, Steve was careless as he undressed. A sound of discomfort escaped him as he jarred the wound at his side.

Tony looked over at the noise, doing a double take, his eyes widening as they landed on the bullet wound, the spiderwebbing dark lines spreading across Steve’s torso.

“It’s where the bullet Sharon shot me with, hit,” Steve explained.

Tony nodded slowly, mind whirling behind his eyes. “It’s not healing.”

Steve shook his head. “Another you gave me nanobots, but that didn’t last. It’s started bleeding again.”

Tony was silent for a moment, there was something in his face, a theory not quite articulated. He bit his lip, the expression strange considering he was made out of pixel.  “Now that I’ve stopped trying to bring you here, you won’t jump as fast and it should stop hurting as much,”

Steve touched his wound gingerly. It was hurting less, the throbbing fire in his side, cooling down to a fever instead of something that was on the edge of consuming. He supposed it made sense, a wound less aggravated now that he was being summoned. It still wasn’t healing though, still energy sapping and bleeding sluggishly. It might have slowed down but it would still kill him eventually.

“Oh, I’ve got something else for you,” Tony said before Steve could reply. He gestured to the corner of the room. “Go look!”

Steve went where Tony had pointed, tugging at a moth-eaten sheet. It pulled away easily, leaving a little cloud of dust that made Steve's eyes water. 

His shield sat gleaming in the dark.

Steve reached out slowly, half expecting his fingers to slide through the shield like it was an illusion. He touched the cool viburnum, feeling it vibrate through his fingers. He smiled at it, heart lifting. It felt like home. He looked back over at Tony; the A.I. had his hands to face, almost vibrating with expectation. “How?” Steve asked.

“We had some victories.” Tony said, “Take it. It’s yours.”

Steve picked up the shield easily, twisting it, rolling as he remembered the weight of it. He turned to grin back at Tony.

 “There’s something else, you’ll need it to get into the Triskelion.” Tony gestured to a small black band resting on the table. “It’s a hologram generator. It will work with your suit. Make you fit it.”

“It will make me look like Hydra.” Steve guessed; his voice flat, unhappy.

“It will keep you safe.” Tony retorted sharply. The A.I. was watching him, eyes narrowed ready for a fight.  Despite his fierce expression Steve couldn’t help but think how small and very alone he looked in the otherwise the huge, empty workshop. Who did the A.I. talk to when Steve wasn’t here? Did any of the other Avengers come and visit, did they think of him as Tony or was he just another machine to them, to be used and left behind?

Steve conceded to Tony’s demands without another word, troubled by his thoughts. He strapped the band to his wrist, swallowing as it clicked into place, a blue like flickering on. Static electricity raced across his limbs, a cold finger running up his spine. Like tiles being tipped over, the blue of the suit was swallowed by a wave of black. The Hydra symbol sat proudly, sickeningly, on his chest.

Steve looked up; his mouth still curled in disgust. The AI had taken a step back, his expression pained, wary. Steve went still, taken aback by how much this obviously hurt Tony. The more time he spent with the A.I. the more it became apparent that he wasn’t just a machine, just code twisted into a replica of Tony Stark. He thought, felt as Tony did. The A.I. had mentioned that Steve and Tony were together and Steve had never stopped to consider what that meant for the A.I., not until he saw Tony’s stricken, heartbroken expression played out in blue pixels. 

“Tony,” Steve said softly.

“If you press the button on the side of the band it will stop,” Tony said, arms held tight into his sides.

Steve pressed the button as instructed, and they both breathed a sigh of relief as his captain America uniform reappeared.

“You should just be able to walk into the Triskelion. Find Tony. There will be an extraction 2 blocks away, it will take you to Stark Resilient. He’ll be safe there.”

Steve nodded, the instructions running through his mind on repeat. He could feel the familiar surge of adrenaline filling him, the slow, calmness of his mind just before he leapt into action. He swung his shield up and over his head, locking into place on his back with a sharp nod at the A.I. “Got it. I’m ready.”

“Yeah.” Tony made to say something else but stopped himself, the pixels in his face shivering as he snapped his jaw shut.

The buzz of adrenaline faded a little and Steve wished not the first time that he could reach out and touch the A.I. It felt so cruel to not be able to touch and if Steve was being honest, finding himself without physical demonstration made him uncomfortably aware of how hard he found talking about his feelings. The A.I. shifted; a child moved by their own indecision.

“Tony?” Steve asked gently, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just. I guess, I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Steve blinked, not expecting that reply. “I’ll come back after I’ve taken Tony to Stark resilient.” He offered gently.

Tony’s blue face rippled like water. Settling into something emotionless, distant. “No Steve, we won’t see each other again.’”

“But-”

“Tell Tony about the wound, he’ll need to fix you up again.”

“Can’t you-”

“No, for this one, you need a real boy,” Tony said, his voice sharp. Steve winced; it was cruel to have created such a human A.I.; torture for a being who hated what they were. Steve felt bad for ever thinking that the Tony A.I. had been a machine, being a machine would have been a mercy.

An alarm sounded suddenly, a blaring horn than made Steve hiss as it reverberated painfully against his eardrums.

“That’s your ride,” Tony told him. “Time to go.”

The doors to the workshop open with a hiss of air, sunlight a faint distant speck of light.

Steve hesitated, “Tony.”

Tony smiled weakly; he was glowing, shining with a faint, watery blue light. “Go, you need to save Tony.”

Steve nodded slowly, accepting that this was as close to a goodbye as they would get. “And you need to save Steve.”

“Always.”

 


	8. Chapter 7

It was painfully easy to gain entry into the Triskelion. Everything was coded to Steve’s DNA and the scurrying Hydra minions were too afraid to question why the Hydra Supreme was walking around alone. Steve’s heart was beating like a drum in his chest, almost rabbit-like as he marched through the Triskelion atrium. The flying eagle of S.H.I.E.L.D. which had once arched across the marble atrium floor was gone, crudely painted over by the hollow-eyed Hydra Skull. Steve clenched his fists at sight, leather cracking with his anger.

The A.I. had pinpointed the corridor when he suspected Tony was being held - a long, deserted basement corridor with no windows or through- traffic. Steve found himself hurrying, opening and closing doors quickly, half expecting someone to find him, for an alarm to go off. He pushed open the next door in the corridor quickly.

The pod sat gleaming and huge in the otherwise empty room. Steve sighed in relief and strode towards it, hands coming out to rest on the glass.

Tony was gone.

Steve stared, unable to understand what he was seeing. The pod was empty, the fading imprint of a body left in mused sheets. The Hydra Supreme must have made good on his promise and woken him up. Steve slammed his fist into the glass, frustration and fear making him strong enough to make the pod groan beneath his hands. Steve must have just missed him.

“Sir, the asset is secured as ordered.”

Steve spun around sharply, he hadn’t heard the door opening or the booted footstep of the Hydra agent entering. The man stood before him seemed to be struggling not to cringe in the face of Steve’s fury, his mouth quivering nervously as Steve stepped forward.

“Sorry, sir I did not mean to… interrupt you.” The way the agent said ‘interrupt’ sent the hairs on Steve’s arm upright. He wondered sickly what exactly the agent thought he was interrupting.

Steve’s tried to remember how the Hydra Supreme version of himself had spoken. He tried to emulate the other’s cruel, sneering drawl. “Good. Now take me there.”

The man hesitated, “Now sir?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No Sir, my apologies.” The agent replied quickly, stifling his momentary surprise. He spun on heel, marching purposefully out of the room.  Steve spared the empty pod one final glance before following the man.

It was a short walk to where Tony was being kept. Steve tried to remain calm as they walked, his blood was pounding so loudly in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else. Steve half expecting his cover to be blown at any moment. The agent walking in front kept glancing at him out the corner of his eyes, pupils darting with fear and curiosity. Steve needed to get rid of him quick before he got over his fear and realised that something wasn’t right.

The agent stopped abruptly.

“The asset’s room. And the viewing room.” The man said gesturing the to the two doors.  “Is there anything -

“Leave now.” Steve interrupted, waving a hand at the agent. The man hesitated and Steve raised an eyebrow at him, sending him bobbing and shuffling away. Steve watched him go, waiting until he had disappeared around a corner before turning back to the two doors.

He reached out for the door to the room where Tony was being kept and stopped, fingers resting on the doorknob. The metal was warm, fading heat from someone else’s hands. Steve pulled away sharply, his heart was beating fast, a rapid rabbit rhythm against his rib cage. He moved to the other door, the viewing room and entered, hand resting on his shield.

The room Steve stepped into was a glorified broom closet, long and thin and dark. It was bare apart from the mirror stretched across the entire inside wall. At least Steve thought it was a mirror. There was light seeping from around the sharp edges, giving the dark closet an eerie glow. Steve moved closer, stopping when he was dead centre to the mirror. He inhaled sharply, understanding why the agent had called this the viewing room. The one-way mirror was a window into the room Tony was being kept in. A voyeur’s dream.

It took a few seconds but Steve slowly realised he recognised the room, remembered the neat little bedroom with the two picture frames in pride of place next to the bed. He had been there recently, fallen asleep with another, different Tony resting in his chest.  Steve’s hands clenched, leather twisting in his anger. This was calculated manipulation, a way to disarm Tony, to confuse him with memories of kindness and love. Steve had seen tactics like this before, they were always accompanied by violence, with fear. A carrot and stick to force the victim into preferred behaviour.

Tony was laid out across the bed, barely breathing. He was so still it took a moment for Steve to even notice him. Without the healing pod, he looked pale and thin as if his fat and muscles had been eaten off him slowly. His wrists and ankles were narrower than Steve had ever seen, bird-like against the sheets. The sight of Tony, lying so vulnerable made something clench, stutter in Steve's chest. He needed to get him out of here now. Before the Hydra Supreme got to him

There was a flutter of movement at the corner of the room, drawing Steve’s attention abruptly. Someone else was in the room with Tony.

“I know you’re awake,” It was Steve’s own voice; echoing as he stepped into the light, shadows melting away to reveal Hydra Supreme. The Hydra Supreme was wearing black, stiff Kevlar stretched taut over his broad shoulders. His eyes were almost dancing with excitement as he approached Tony’s bed, vicious cruelty lingering at the edges of a barely controlled smile. But the Hydra Symbol on his chest was missing. The A.I. had been right, he was planning on lying to Tony.

Steve felt a surge of rage at the sight, struggling with himself to keep the scream that was threatening to spill off his tongue stifled behind his teeth. He half expected the Hydra Supreme to know somehow that Steve was here watching them. Any minute the other Steve would turn his sneering gaze to the mirror, eyes twinkling in victory. But nothing happened. The Hydra Supreme had his attention focused elsewhere. “Come on Tony, you can’t hide forever.”

On the bed, Tony opened his eyes. They were bright and clear, sharp as ever despite his pale, withered face.

Steve beamed down at him, “There you are.” He reached out, ignoring the twitch in Tony’s jaw and ran his fingers lovingly down his cheek. “It’s been so lonely without you, baby.”

“Steve.” Tony croaked, his voice cracking, losing the word.

“Here let me get you a drink, you must be thirsty.” Steve moved over to the entrance, his back to Tony as he poured a glass of water. “The pod was a clever idea by the way. It made you nearly as good as new.” He turned, smiling back at Tony, a predatoriness lingering at the sharp edges of his mouth. “Well nearly. It will take a while for you to regain control of your limbs.”

He pressed the glass to Tony’s mouth, “drink.” He ordered.

Tony’s mouth opened compliantly. His eyes were huge in his sunken face, his skin translucent from so long without sun. The Hydra Supreme was smiling as Tony struggled to meet the offered glass, his eyes darkening with triumph.

Tony jerked his head.

The suddenness of the movement knocked the glass out of Steve's hands. It crashed to the floor, glass shattering. Water scattered, soaking Steve’s uniform, his face. Tony stared up at him, eyes narrowed.

Steve stared down at Tony, water dripping from his pale eyelashes and onto the bedspread. He released a huff; the sound a shotgun in the tense silence between them. Steve moved. The back of his hand struck Tony’s face hard, bone-crunching at the force of the blow. Tony cried out, knocked sideways off the bed. He landed in a knot of limbs, clawing weakly at the floor as he tried to drag himself across the floor on withered, useless limbs.

Steve slowly wiped the water from his face. He was cold, methodical as he cleaned himself up. All displays of love and warmth had faded, revealing something cold, uncaring and filled with anger. He stepped around Tony carefully, boots landing millimetres away from the man’s grasping fingers.

“How did you know?” Steve asked, cold and curious.

“I heard you talking while I was in the coma.” Tony hissed over his shoulder. Already there was a bruise forming across his face, his bottom lip was swollen, stained with blood. He shook against the floor, sweating with exertion. “I know what you are, I know everything.”

Steve laughed, “Well this is going to make things much, much harder.” He reached down, picking Tony up by his collar like he was a disobedient dog. He carried the man back to the bed, dumping him roughly onto the mattress. “For you, anyway.”

“This isn’t right, this isn’t you.” Tony gasped, trying to push himself upright, “It must be a spell, or mind control, or-“

Steve pressed the heel of his hand into Tony’s sternum hard, flattening the man to the bed. Tony went silent, breathless under the pressure. “Actually, this is me. The real me. There’s no magic, no spell. This isn’t something you can fix. It’s real.”

“No.” Tony hissed, breathing whistling through his teeth. “I know you, the real you. Steve would never join Hydra. He loved me.”

Steve tilted his head, his expression pitying. “I do love you.” His thumb came to rest of Tony’s bottom lip, pressing and dragging it down. Blood welled up around his digit and he smeared it across Tony’s mouth, leaving it vividly red in contrast to Tony’s pale face. “The other stuff was a lie but we were real. It’s still real. We can still be together.”

“No.” Tony tried to turn away but Steve held him tight, grasping his head easily with one hand. He seemed amused by Tony’s efforts rather than annoyed at him, laughing as Tony hissed like an angry cat at him.

“Tony, stop. I know you don’t want to fight to me, not again. That didn’t work remember? You need me. We’re better when we’re working together not in conflict. People get hurt when we fight.”

Tony swallowed, his breathing stuttering with feeling. He clenched his jaw shut, staring up at the Hydra Supreme silently. His eyes were huge, reflective with unshed tears.

Inside the viewing room, Steve felt his heart stop, straining as if it would break into two. He could see the pain, the momentary doubt in Tony’s eyes, the desperate desire to be loved. The Hydra Supreme saw it too, his mouth twitching with victory.

“I’m still the same man that you love, that you believed in. I’ve not changed that much” The Hydra Supreme continued, his grasp on Tony softening to a caress, fingers gently tugging through Tony’s mused curls. He leaned closer, almost unable to control his excitement. “I don’t want anyone with me more than you. Stay with me, Tony. I’ll you out of here, you can do anything you want. I trust you.”

Steve leaned down, pressing his mouth fleetingly against Tony. The pressure of a mouth on his split lip made Tony shudder, a shiver running down his clumsy limbs. “I just need two little words,” Steve whispered against Tony’s mouth. He pulled back, still close enough their noses could touch. “Say it, Tony. I know you want to. Stop fighting.”

There was a moment of silence. Tension, expectancy strung out between the Hydra Supreme and Tony like caramel. Tony was gasping shallowly, little punched out breathes that seemed to fight to escape him. From inside the viewing room Steve could barely watch, every atom in his body was screaming at him to get in there, to rip the Hydra Supreme away from Tony. To stop Tony before he declared his allegiance to Hydra.  But he forced himself to remain where he was. The wound in his side was better than it had been, noticeably less painful than it had been. But it was still there, sapping his energy, his strength. In order to win this battle, Steve needed the element of surprise. He couldn’t risk a face on face confrontation.

“Steve…” Tony’s voice was barely audible. Hydra Supreme leaned down to hear him. And then Tony struck. He threw his head forward, slamming his forehead into Steve’s nose. Bone crunched, the sound sharp and painful.

Hydra Supreme reeled backwards, cursing thickly as he scrambled to stop the blood flowing from his shattered nose.

Tony had levelled himself upright, his eyes hardened even as his arms shook under the stress of holding him up. “Fuck you!”

The Hydra Supreme ran the back of his hand under his nose, dragging it through his blood. He moved his jaw side to side. The joints cracked, teeth and eyes bulging as he a monster escaping the confines of a broken mask. His fury was a volcano bubbling under the surface, molten. “That was a very stupid thing to do.”

A muscle in Tony’s jaw twitched, his chin tilted in defiance.  “I’ll never join Hydra.”

Steve laughed and then he had shot across the room, a bullet of movement aimed at Tony. He grabbed Tony by the throat, dragging him upright as easily as a doll and slammed him into the wall. Tony heaved, straining to breathe.

“You either join me willing or I make you.” The Hydra Supreme growled, ignoring the choking, soundless cries escaping Tony. “I’d say I don’t want to hurt you, but we both know that some part of me always wants to hurt you.”

The Hydra Supreme loosened around Tony’s neck and Tony sucked in a huge, desperate breath, coughs wracking his weak body. Steve smiled and shoved his hand into Tony’s hair, fisting it and dragging the man’s head up, exposing his neck. His other hand curled around Tony’s hip, thumb resting in the dip next to the ridge of Tony’s hipbone. 

“In fact,” Steve drawled, rocking forward. His body pressing hard into Tony’s flattening him against the wall. “I’m almost looking forward to it.”

Tony mouth’s quivered; his eyes were wet, a swirling mixture of fear and understanding and grief. “No.,” he said finally, the word punched painfully from him.

Steve dropped Tony abruptly, watching as the man crumpled like paper to the floor. Tony bit back a cry, his face turned towards the floor, away from the monster watching him.

“I’ll leave you to think about my offer.” The Hydra Supreme told Tony, tugging his suit back into place. At the door he paused, his expression calm. “I do love you Tony and I will have you.”

Then he was gone, the door beeping in warning as it locked behind him. For a moment there was silence, calm after the storm. Then Tony seemed to curl into himself even more, folding himself as small as he could manage. One huge desperate, shuddering sob escaped him. Tony gulped air unevenly, his breathing wet and rattling, painful to hear. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, rocking slightly like a child trying to soothe themselves.

Steve couldn’t watch; it wasn’t right to see Tony like this, so broken and hurt. Especially not when it was another him’s fault. Steve turned away from the one-way-mirror. He looked at his arms, still clad in a black Hydra uniform. Both he and Tony knew what the Hydra Supreme had threatened, what he had insinuated. Steve couldn’t bear to continue wearing the same colours as him. He pressed the button on his band, sighing at black melted away, revealing his normal suit.

He was getting Tony out of here now and there was no way he going to be able to do that dressed as that monster.

Steve waited, prowling like a lion in a cage. He counted the seconds in his head, imagining how long it would take for the Hydra Supreme to walk down the corridor and out of sight.

After what felt an age it was time. Steve hesitated at the door; his ear pressed against the metal for one final check. Satisfied the corridor was empty he stepped out, one hand resting on his shield, ready to fight.

There were no Hydra agents in sight. It was a stupid move that didn’t make sense considering how not stupid Steve was. Steve had at least expected a couple of guards at Tony’s door. Feeling uneasy Steve made his way to Tony’s room  The knob lit up at his touch. Like every other lock in this place, it was coded to the Hydra Supreme’s DNA. Steve’s DNA. A.I. Tony had been right, no one else could have done this.

“Tony-,” Steve ducked, narrowly missing a glass thrown at his head. Glass shards rained down around him. Steve cursed at the noise, quickly stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

“Trying a different tactic? You think I’d be fooled by a Captain America suit?” Tony snarled; another glass raised warningly. He was stood on the far side of the room. His legs were shaking, dangerously unsteady but at least he was upright. He was improving fast.

“It’s not what you think,” Steve took a step forward, dodging another glass hurtled towards him. “Stop throwing things at me!”

“Stop being Hydra!”  Tony retorted, hands reaching behind him.

“I’m not Hydra!” Steve moved closer, batting away a third missile. The bedroom floor was littered with a fine layer of crushed glass, shards sparkling dangerously and Tony had bare feet. With a growl of frustration, Steve surged forward, easily capturing Tony by the shoulders and swinging him off his feet and onto the bed.

Tony was like a wild animal, punches dissolving into a desperate fearful clawing. He was making a low-pitched whine, deaf to Steve’s explanations. Steve rolled on top of him, capturing Tony's arms and pinning them next to his head as gently as he could. Tony heaved, the fight leeching out of him with exhaustion. He looked up and Steve nearly recoiled at the fear, the hate in his blue eyes. Tony had never looked at him like that before.

“Go on then. Do what you’re going to do.” Tony hissed: defiant, defeated.

Steve swallowed and slowly slid off Tony, hands raised up in surrender. Tony sat upright, confused and wary.

“Please, I’m not him. I’m not with Hydra. I’m here to save you.”

“Steve?” Tony asked, his voice was small as if he was scared to believe.

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s me.”

Tony threw himself off the bed, trusting that Steve would catch him before he fell. Steve did. He wrapped Tony in his arms a with a relieved sigh, holding the man a fraction too tight against him. Tony’s fingers dug into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to hurt. He pressed his face into Steve’s neck, shuddering in relief. “I knew you weren’t Hydra; I knew he wasn’t you.”

A guilty knot lodged itself in Steve’s throat, choking him. “We need to get out of here. I’ll explain everything later.”

“Yeah, Yeah.” Tony nodded, unquestioning in his loyalty. He followed Steve to the door, picking his way on unsteady feet through the glass.

Steve couldn’t help but think how easy it could have been for the Hydra Supreme to get Tony on his side, how primed Tony was to trust, to believe Steve. How easily he followed.

They made their way through the corridor. Luckily both of them knew the Triskelion and they moved quickly. Closer to the exit they ran into a few agents but the sight of Steve, even in his Captain America uniform made them hesitate just long enough for Steve to throw his shield and immobilise them. It was easy, too easy. Steve found himself getting tenser and tenser the more time passed, everything in him was screaming that something was wrong. That this was a trap. But nothing happened.

They came to a stop just before the atrium. The single exit out of the triskelion required them to leave through the atrium: a huge, open space crawling with Hydra agents.

 “There’s an extraction point two blocks away; we just have to make it out the front door.” Steve glanced over at Tony. The dark-haired man was panting hard, his face pale, apart from the two pink dots high on his cheeks. He hasn’t complained as they made their way through the Triskelion but it was obvious to Steve that he was nearing the end of his capacity, shivering and sweating with exhaustion.

“Tony?”

He smiled weakly up at Steve, ‘I’m fine. I’ll be right behind you. Go kick in some Hydra heads.’

Steve hesitated. “I’ve got another idea.” He pressed the button on his wrist band, a wave of Hydra black swallowing his suit. Tony’s eyes widened, betrayal creeping at the edges of his expression. He was getting ready to shout, to fight. Steve slapped a hand over his mouth, just in time to muffle Tony’s scream.

“It’s just a disguise. Your A.I. made it for me.” Steve explained hurriedly.

‘T.O.N.Y?’ Tony mumbled through his fingers. The way Tony said his name made Steve imagine it an acronym. Steve nodded, releasing Tony’s mouth. A quirked smile lingered on Tony’s face, his eyes curious, full of ideas despite the situation. “How was he?”

Steve thought about the A.I. uneasily. He had been so human, so full of emotions. Being an A.I. had been lonely and frustrating for him, a painful experience for one who felt alive, who wanted to touch. He had been as self-doubting, dissatisfied as any human, driven by loyalty and guilty and love to do whatever was needed to save his Steve.

“He was just like you,” Steve said eventually. He glanced at the atrium once more.  “Wait here.” Steve straightening his shoulders and took one deep breath before standing up.

Steve walked out into atrium as the Hydra Supreme, his mouth curled into a sneer, his steps impatient.  Hydra agents snapped to attention; a dozen eyes trained on him waiting for his command.

“The asset has escaped. He was seen on the south side of the building. Go and find him now!”

The Hydra agents scattered, boots stomping across the marble floor. Steve remained still, trying not to let his desperation, his nervousness show as the men streamed past him. Tony, who had been watching this from his safe nook appeared at the edge of the atrium, moving slowly out the corner of Steve's eye.

Suddenly there another storm of sound, ominous footsteps echoing around the marble atrium.

“Well, this is unexpected.”

Steve turned to face his enemy, unhooking his shield slowly.

The Hydra Supreme had come alone, a solitary figure in black. He was an intimidating figure as he stepped into the atrium; his footsteps were cat-like, barely making a whisper. Steve’s eyes were trained on him, muscles tensing in preparation. The Hydra Supreme grinned; a fearsome red skull stretched out across his torso proudly. In the far corner of the atrium, Tony had disappeared and Steve felt something relax in his chest slightly.

“That is my shield.” Hydra Supreme said lightly, one pale eyebrow raised. He seemed unsurprised by Steve’s presence, more amused than anything. He had started to move around Steve, circling him. In his hands was a baton that fizzed with electricity as he twirled in, blue sparks flying around him.

“You don’t deserve it,” Steve said flatly.

The Hydra Supreme smirked, “And you don’t belong here.”

He charged. The electric baton hit Steve’s shield, sending electricity surging across the metal. The Vibranium vibrated painful, sending shockwaves up Steve’s arms. He groaned at the pain, forcing his arms up, the shield knocking the baton away. The Hydra Supreme took a step back. Steve saw his opening, swinging his shield up fast and catching the other man across the face.

The Hydra Supreme rolled with the hit, landing an arm’s length away from Steve with a laugh. “You know, I expected that A.I. to send someone here. But I didn’t expect him to send another me. Where did he find you?”

Steve ignored him, running towards the Hydra Supreme. At the last second he leaped, twisting in mid-air to land a kick to the man’s face. Or least that’s what he planned. The Hydra Supreme grabbed Steve’s ankle, using his own momentum to throw him hard to the ground. Steve landed awkwardly, only just managing to roll out the way of the Hydra Supreme’s boots. Pain rippled in icy fingers up through his torso, his wound throbbing warningly.

“You seem a bit rusty,” the Hydra Supreme taunted.

“Just getting warmed up.”

The Hydra Supreme made the next move, advancing hard on Steve. Steve was panting, the wound in his side aching, sapping his energy as he struggled to ward off the lightning-fast blows coming from the electric baton. The baton went left and Steve twisted, catching it with his shield. The movement sent a hot twist of pain through him and he was slow, unsteady as he tried to re-centre himself.

A blow caught him hard on the back of the knee, sending him down into a crouch with a cry. Steve raised his shield just in time to block the baton.

“You’re weak. Injured.” The Hydra Supreme sneered, volleying blows at his shield.

Steve, threw himself sideways, rolling away. He got to his feet, wiping the sweat from his eyes. “I could do this all day.”

The Hydra Supreme laugh, twirling his baton like a toy between his hands. “You’re going to lose. Just give up. Tell me where he is.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Steve said and charged forward. The Hydra Supreme smirked and ran towards him.

They clashed hard, the grating sound of metal hitting metal echoing around the atrium. Every hit was sending warning tendril of pain through Steve, leaving him sluggish and distracted. He was struggling to react fast enough and every now and again the baton would hit him, a jolt of electricity zapping him. One electric blast to the neck left his crying out in pain, falling to his knees. He struggled to get up, to move again. When Steve looked up, the Hydra supreme was waiting, the baton thrust under his chin warningly. “I won’t ask again, where is he.”

Steve panted, sweat stinging his eyes as it dripped down his skin. He stared up at his own face, twisted with anger and cruelty. Steve smiled. “He’s behind you.”

A gunshot rang like a clap of thunder around the room.

The Hydra Supreme‘s eyes went wide, shocked. He tried to take a step forward but his legs faltered and he fell, folding to the ground. Tony stood over the Hydra Surpreme’s body. The dark haired was wide-eyed, his face bloodless. In his hands was a gun, held steady.

Steve struggled to his feet; a hand pressed to his side. Tony darted towards him; he was slower than usual but steady, stronger than before. He reached out to Steve, inhaling sharply as his hands came in contact with the blood seeping through Steve’s uniform.

“Come on, we’ve got to go,” Steve told him. Tony nodded and they wrapped their arms around each other. It was unclear who was supporting who as they started to move.

“No!” The Hydra Supreme gurgled from the floor. Tony’s bullet had caught his neck but his healing factor had already started to work, his words torn out from his ruined throat. “How did you…”

Steve glanced down the at the Hydra Supreme. The other Steve was covered in blood, his eyes wild, mad with fury and disbelief unable to accept he had lost, not believing that his prisoner, that Tony had been the one to shoot him.

“You always did underestimate him,” Steve told himself and turned away, Tony pressed tightly into his side.

* * *

 

The extraction team was waiting for them as promised: two automated iron men suits – one built extra-large for Steve. The suits wrapped around them and shot like comets into the air, taking them far away from the Triskelion and the Hydra Supreme.

Steve lost time, finally submitting himself to the throbbing, unrelenting pain in his side. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision and when he blinked, he was lying flat on his back, somewhere new. He shot upright, fists swinging.

“Hey, hey!” Tony skidded into view, hands held out and waving fanatically. “You’re safe. You’re safe!”

Steve relaxed minutely, “Where are we?”

“Stark Resilient. No one is going to be able to get to us here. It’s safe.”

Steve nodded, his head spinning. The A.I. had mentioned Stark Resilient. But Steve didn’t know what it was, or at least he didn’t think he did.  But after everything, if Tony said they were safe here he was inclined to believe him. Automatically, he reached down to his wound, surprised when he found it was wrapped up, bandaged anew. His suit had been peeled off once again.

“I’m grateful for the first aid, but I’m really getting sick of people stripping me while I sleep.” He mumbled, throwing his legs over the side of the cot. They were in a workshop, a shinier, more polished version of the one that at A.I. had created. It gave him a strange sense of déjà vu, seeing a similar layout, the close but not quite the same placement of electronics and tools.

Tony sat down next to Steve, close enough that Steve could feel the heat of his skin. He was relaxed, skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes.  “I’ll try to remember that for the future.”

Steve's lips curled uncontrollably. There was warmth blossoming inside his chest, filling him up. He let his knee drop sideways, his leg resting against Tony’s.

“I downloaded my A.I.’s files,” Tony told him quietly. “It had all the details about you, about where you came from. I’d say I’m sorry he forced you to come here but I’d be a bit screwed if he hadn’t so, I’m not sorry. But I am sorry for not being sorry.”

“Tony.”

Tony blinked, cheeks colouring with embarrassment. “I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for rescuing me.”

“You rescued me.” Steve pointed out softly.

Tony’s jaw twitched. “I only slowed him down. I had a killing shot. I just couldn’t take do it. He’ll be back.”

“Hey, hey.” Steve reached out, taking Tony’s hand. Their fingers threaded together easily. It was almost painful to touch Tony gently after the time he had spent with Tony’s A.I. A gift Steve hadn’t even known he had. He squeezed softly, drawing Tony’s attention back to him. “You showed mercy.”

Tony didn’t look convinced.

“You’re in love,” Steve said. “You and Steve were together. You want to save him, to get back the man you knew.”

Tony exhaled loudly; a sob hidden at the edges of his ragged breath. He nodded, the movement violent with determination, “I will save him.”

“I know,” Steve squeezed Tony’s hand again. He struggled to form the next sentence, unused to putting himself out there, to trying to vocalise his feelings. “During the SHRA, I thought that we were done, that we had been through too. That we had made too many mistakes to ever recover. I know that’s not true now. I saw what we can become, how much we care about each other. I know this isn’t the end.”

Tony looked at him, expression soft, warm despite the wetness at the corners of his eyes. Steve reached out, cupping Tony’s face so his thumb could brush his tears. Tony’s eyes blinked shut slowly and he leaned into Steve’s hand, rubbing against him like a cat. The heat in Steve’s chest spread, kindling low in his stomach. He could barely breathe, his gaze laser-focused on Tony’s face in his hands.

Tony pulled away, eyes opening slowly. He looked at Steve smiling and then winced, turning away from Steve’s gaze. Steve put his hands in his lap abruptly, embarrassment lingered between them as the realised what they had been doing.

“This is very confusing for me right now,” Tony told Steve after a moment. “You’re you but not you and the other you is Hydra.”

Steve smiled, quick to take the offered easy way out of the awkward moment. “You’re confused? Today, I met you as a seven-year-old.”

Tony laughed, “Terrifying.”

Steve shrugged, smiling. “He was pretty cool.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, Steve struggling with a question that had been lingering in his mind since he had seen the future where he and Tony were together. Across the room, a machine beeped, making them both jumped.

Tony snorted, running his hands through his hair. “Sorry, a message from the other me. I better go and see it.” He stood up, stopped by Steve’ hand curling around his wrist.

“Tony,” Steve asked slowly, “I jumped to a time where we were together, romantically. When – when does it happen?” Steve wondered if Tony could hear the longing, the impatience in his voice.

Tony bit his lip, his gaze was distant as if he was seeing something Steve couldn’t. “A couple of years after the SHRA, it took us a long to get over that one. Oh, and I have my mind deleted which didn’t help.”

“You had your mind deleted,” Steve repeated flatly, his face hardening at the thought.

Tony winced, “Apparently? I can’t say I remember any of it. The only copy of the SHRA was in my brain, I had to stop Norman Osborn from getting his hands on it. It’s a long story.”

Steve rubbed a hand over his mouth disbelieving, trying to control his reactive anger. 

“It was a long time ago.” Tony tried, an edge of anxiety lingering at the edges of his voice.

“Not for me. That hasn’t happened for me yet.” Steve said. He looked at Tony, saw the fondness, the love in his eyes as he waited for Steve to calm, to say his piece. It was the same look Tony had been sending his since they first met. Steve just hadn’t understood. He swallowed. “Another you told me that you had always loved me, since the day we first met.”

Tony made a small noise, eyes shifting with embarrassment. “Well, since the first time we met seems a little unlikely. I mean you were no pretty picture then you know, paranoid and angry. I think you were even slightly blue - ” He trailed off, licking his lips and turned to meet Steve’s gaze steadily. “Yeah, I’ve always loved you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me.” Steve asked, “All these years and I didn’t know.”

 “You didn’t love me back,” Tony replied simply.

“I did.” Steve protested. “I do.”   

Tony went silent, mouth hanging out. “But I thought you came from just after the SHRA? I arrested you.”

“And I nearly killed you.” Steve said, “And yet, here I am. I was just too stupid, too pig-headed to put the pieces together I guess.”

Tony swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, drawing Steve’s attention to the long vulnerable lines of his neck. “I didn’t know that.”

“I never told you?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not the most open about your feelings.” Tony replied, and then winced, “Except when you’re the Supreme Leader of Hydra apparently. Then you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Tony’s words were off-hand, darkly humoured. But Steve knew Tony, knew him better than he knew anyone really and he was familiar with the ways in which Tony used humour and sarcasm to verbalise his feelings. When they had first met, Steve had been continually thrown off guard by this habit of Tony’s, finding it inappropriate, flippant. It was only later he understood that Tony used his feelings like a weapon, hammering people with the inappropriateness of them because he didn’t know how to discuss them otherwise. Steve wasn’t the only one with communication issues.

“I could help you stop him, fix him,” Steve said instead.

“Thanks,” Tony replied automatically; his attention already somewhere else.

“Tony, I mean it.” Steve reached out, holding Tony hand to draw his attention. “I could help. I could stay and help you.”

Tony’s eyes burnt into his; desire was electric blue threads lingering at the edges of his pupils. “You can’t.”

“Not forever, just for a while.”

Tony struggled, fighting with himself. “No, you don’t understand. You can’t stay with me. You need to go back to your time. To your friends.”

“But who will look after you?” Steve asked softly and before he could help himself, he was back to holding Tony’s face, his fingers tangling into Tony’s unkempt wild curls. Tony leaned into his hands once again, body going soft, limp at his touch.

“Steve.”

“I won’t let him hurt you.” He told Tony fiercely, remembering the Hydra Supreme’s pointed threats, the possessiveness and cruelty in his eyes. Steve didn’t doubt his counterpart would be back, more determined than ever to have Tony.

“He won’t,” Tony answered; his hands came up to hold Steve’s wrists. He didn’t try to move Steve, just rested his hands on him, fingers on his pulse points. “I won’t let him.”

“I can help.”

“People in your time need your help.” Tony pressed, “Bucky and Sam. Sharon. S.H.I.E.L.D. falls after the SHRA, replaced by HA.M.M.E.R. and Norman Osborn.  Without you they won’t have anyone to turn to. They need your help. The Tony in your time is about to get his brain deleted. He needs your help.”

Steve flinched at the mention of the brain deletion. He closed eyes, frustrated.

“Steve you have to go back.”

“I know.” Steve opened his eyes, he stroked Tony’s face. “But I’ve only just found you. I just figured out how I feel. And now I have to go back to being without you? To fighting you? How am I meant to do that when all I want to do is kiss you?”

Tony stretched upwards suddenly. He kissed Steve hard; his lips too forceful, too chapped to be pleasant. And yet it was the best kiss Steve had ever experienced. Unlike last time, he didn’t hesitate, he wrapped Tony up in his arms, dragging him closer. Tony’s tongue slipped into his mouth, needy and frantic. He had thrown his arms around Steve’s shoulders, hands tugging at Steve’s hair, urging him closer.

Steve broke away for a second, forcing himself to look down at Tony. “I’m not him. I’m not your Steve.” He said; he had to say it. Had to make sure.

“I know.” Tony was breathless, chest heaving. “But he’s currently the leader of Hydra. I think we’re on a break.”

“Tony…”

“Just once, Steve. Just this once.”

“Just once,” Steve repeated and then they were kissing again.

Despite the softness between them before, there was nothing gentle in the way they touched each other. They were frantic, clutching at each other with the needy desperation of two people about to lose each other forever. At some point, the flame in Steve’s gut kindled into a fire, burning through him. It was easy, instinctual to move Tony; to pick him in order to bring him closer. Tony didn’t seem surprised, his legs hooking around Steve’s hips with easy familiarity and Steve had a lightning flash of jealousy, wondering if Tony had practiced that move on other men, on another Steve.

Tony sucked a hot wet line down Steve’s throat, the sensation making Steve’s eyes nearly roll back into his head in surprise. Tony chuckled; his pupils were blown wide, dancing mischievously. “I thought you’d like that.”

Steve growled; his heart was racing, blood pounding in his ears. He swung them around, dropping Tony down onto the cot he had woken up on. Tony yelped in surprise; eyes widening with shock. Before he could say anything, Steve was on top of him, parting Tony’s thighs so he could press his hips down hard into the dark-haired man. They both groaned at the sensation, Tony’s fingers scrambling, clawing against his bare shoulders.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed. He couldn’t believe how hard he was, closer than he’d thought possible considering all they had barely started. He had never felt this out of control with anyone else.

“Come on, baby,” Tony mumbled, squirming as he tried to shrug out of his own shirt. Steve grabbed the offending piece of fabric, ripping it cleanly down the middle and peeling it off Tony. Tony cursed, eyes darkening with arousal. He surged upwards, arms and legs wrapping around Steve, dragging him down.

They remained like that, kissing and grinding against each other, clothes still on like teenagers. Steve’s suit was too tight, almost painful on his erection but his mind was too dazed with arousal to do anything about it. He panted, breathlessly into Tony’s mouth, moving faster. Tony’s nails were scratching long desperate lines down his back, urging him on. Steve captured Tony’s wrists, pinning his arms above his head easily. Tony whined, twisting and fighting against him, his eyes dark, needy.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve told him hoarsely, forcing himself to slow down, to drag out one long shuddering kiss. Tony mouth was red, swollen from the rough treatment. Steve wanted to touch it, to drag his thumb over that pouting bottom lip.  “That was the first thought I had when I met you. That you were the most handsome man I ever met.”

“Jesus.” Tony hissed, straining against Steve’s grip. “Don’t say things like that. Or I’ll come in my pants like a teenager.”

Heat flared in Steve’s gut at the thought. His hips stuttered, rocking hard into Tony. “So, come then,” Steve ordered and beneath him Tony gave a hoarse, bitten off cry, his back arching. Seeing Tony’s release was enough to send Steve over the edge; he groaned, eyes fluttering shut as his orgasm ripped through him. His abdomen clenched, spasming hard.

Steve dropped down on Tony, uncurling his hands from around the other man’s wrist. He had gripped Tony too hard towards the end and there were red marks pressing damningly into those bird-bone wrists. Steve winced, kissing the insides of Tony’s arms apologetically.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

Tony laughed, his eyes were already half lidding, sleep threatening. “Please don’t apologise after that. Although I am really regretting the decision to not take off my jeans first.”

Steve grimaced in agreement. They glanced at each and started to laugh, agreeing to separate in order to peel the wet clothes off, dropping them in sticky wet piles to the floor.

Afterwards, they settled back down onto the cot. Tony curled up easily into Steve’s arms, tucking himself into the line of Steve’s side as if they’d been made to fit together. Steve breathed deeply, content. His arm was stretched out under Tony and it was easy to fold Tony into towards, holding him protectively in the circle of his arms.

Tony wiggled sleepily, nose pressing into the dip of Steve’s neck. “Will you be here when I wake up?” he asked, voice husky with sleep.

“Of course.” Steve said, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

 


	9. Epilogue

Steve didn’t fall.

Not this time.

Instead, he flew, invisible hands dragging him up, wrenching him from the ground. The sudden movement jolted him from his sleep, his body automatically fighting as he struggled to understand what was happening. Around him, the world was blurring, dissolving,

“No.”  Steve breathed.

He twisted, tried to fight the invisible force holding him. His fingers scrambled, trying to cling onto Tony who still sleeping against his bare chest. His hands slid right through Tony’s back as easily as Steve was made of pixels.

“Not yet!” Steve cried.

Pain shot through, unbearable, unstoppable pain. Steve screamed, body spasming. It felt like he was being ripped in half. Tony had disappeared, dissolving into nothingness. Steve panicked, tried to call out, to beg the universe to stop. But the words were stolen from his tongue. There was no air, no sound. He choked, body contorting with pain. There was another violent tear through his torso; so deep it felt like he was being cleaved in half.

Steve was going to die.

As abruptly as the pain had started it stopped.

Steve heaved; choking on the sudden air. He shot upright, head spinning at the movement.

“His vitals are spiking!” Hands pressing him down, medical gloves covered probing fingers. Steve could feel the prick of a needle in the crook of his elbow, hear the beep of machines.

He refused to be a lab experiment.

Without a word he threw himself to his feet and grabbed his assailant. He twisted her around, his forearm to her throat, locking her in place as he panted. He used the momentary respite to look around. He was in a laboratory but it wasn’t like Tony’s workshop. It was stranger, smaller than what he was used. Even as he compared, the memory of Tony’s workshop was fading, a dream disappearing with consciousness.

“Steve! Steve! It’s me!” The woman in his arms choked out desperately. Her fingers were clawing at his arm, fighting against him uselessly. Steve jolted; he recognised her voice. He remembered her.

“Sharon?” He let her go abruptly.

Sharon stumbled away from him, catching the edge of the examining table before she could fall down. Her face red, eyes bloodshot as she coughed. She twisted to look up at him, her eyes bright through the wayward strands of blonde hair. “We brought you back.” She gasped.

Her face triggered a memory: Sharon stood above him on the courthouse steps, a gun in her hands.

“You shot me!” Steve said before he could stop himself.  Sharon recoiled; she looked stricken, blood draining from her face. Steve’s hand had automatically gone to his side, stuttering when his fingers met smooth, unblemished skin. He kept patting his side, seeking something. There should be blood. His mind was fuzzy, he couldn’t’ remember why he thought there was blood.

 “She was mind controlled.” From behind him, another figure approached. His was voice was weary but familiar. Bucky. Steve turned to face his oldest friend, his expression darkening, frowning at what he saw. The man stood before him sounded like Bucky but he was wearing Steve’s uniform, covered familiar red, white and blue.

“You’re wearing my suit,” Steve stated flatly.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” Bucky said. He held out his hand, palm up, fingers spread. It was a familiar gesture; one they had done a hundred times throughout the war and after. A signal of their friendship. Steve only hesitated a second before taking Bucky’s hand. The man dragged him closer, squeezing his hand hard. “I’m really glad you’re back Stevie.”

Bucky’s words were a comfort, a homecoming but Steve felt a bone-deep sense of regret. Unfounded, and all-consuming. He closed his eyes, drowning, confused in the sensation. He should be happy he was here; he was back in his time with friends. They had obviously been working to save him. But he felt sad, bereft. Like there was something missing. Steve frowned; he was forgetting something. Something important.

“How long was I gone?” Steve asked.

“A year, give or take.” A third member of the group spoke. Sam Wilson, Falcon. He had his hand resting reassuring on Sharon’s back, caring as always.

“A year,” Steve repeated. That felt wrong, he couldn’t have been gone for a year.

“Reed said you were stuck in your past, jumping around your timeline,” Sharon added.

Steve remained silent; he ran his fingers across his forehead, trying to work out the knot of pain that had started behind his eyes. From between his fingers, he could see his friends exchanging discreet, concerned looks. Steve ignored them; there was something he was forgetting, a thought just out of reach. What they saying felt slightly wrong but he couldn’t remember why.

“Steve?” Sam tried.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Steve said finally.

“I know buddy.” Bucky patted him on his back, “Unfortunately we don’t have much time. We have to get you out in public before Osborn finds us.”

 “Osborn,” Steve repeated the name like a lightning rod. His mind itched. A memory of Tony, grinning up at Steve through his lashes, eyes dancing mischievously flashed through his mind. Steve shook his head, “Where’s Tony?”

“Stark?” Bucky scoffed, “Why do you care about him. He’s the reason you died, Steve.”

“No, he’s not.” Steve snapped; his anger surprised the occupants of the room. Bucky crossed his arms, looking troubled. Even Steve wasn’t sure where his response had come from. The last thing he remembered was being led in handcuff to his own trail. Steve might have surrendered to Tony but it didn’t make sense to want to suddenly defend the man, and yet Steve did. Something hot, dark was burning in his gut at the thought of Tony. Familiar and yet undefinable.

“We fought each other for too long.” Steve tried, “and nothing good came of it. I need to speak to Tony.”

Sharon and Sam glanced at each other again uneasily.

“He’s a fugitive, a criminal now Steve.” Sam started. “After you died, he just… broke. He ran S.H.I.E.L.D. into the ground.  It was replaced by H.A.M.M.E.R. but Tony wouldn’t work with Osborn. They say he released some sort of virus into their system. Osborn had an arrest warrant out on him for treason.”

“Treason?” Steve shook his head; the pain was spreading behind his eyes.  “but that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me about it.” Bucky mumbled, rolling his eyes, “The guy fights us all to set up the SHRA and then destroys all copies of it.”

“No,” Steve said slowly. A memory slipped like mist through his straining mind; an itch just out of reach. He grimaced, a flash of certainty coming to him. “Tony wouldn’t destroy the Register.”

“Steve, I’m pretty sure-“

“He’s keeping it safe.” Steve told them, “He’s keeping it from Osborn.”

The others looked at him and then glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. A muscle in Bucky’s jaw was moving as he ground his teeth together.

“It makes sense.” Sharon admitted finally, “Osborn is a snake. Even Stark knew that.”

“Would also explain why Osborn is pouring so much money and resource into finding one man,” Sam added. “But where would Stark hide the Register?”

Something else occurred to Steve, a sickening thought that made him close his eyes. “No.”

“Steve?”

“Tony once told me that extremis changed his brain, made it a hard drive.” Steve’s stomach was a knot, horror making his sick. “Tony is the register.”

“Fucking Stark,” Bucky growled, he slammed his metal fist onto the table next him, leaving behind a fist-sized indent. “Always choosing the worst option.”

Despite Bucky’s harsh words, there was a small amount of surprised, grudging respect in his voice. It was hard not to respect Tony, for his absolute commitment to doing what he thought was right, to not just throwing himself on a live grenade but pulling the trigger in the first place.

 “We going to find him,” Steve said.

Sam nodded in agreement. There was a tension in the air, the feeling of anticipation that always came before a mission. “We have to stop him before he gives Osborn the register.”

“No. We’re not going to stop Tony.” Steve corrected.

He cracked his neck, a strange memory flashed behind his closed eyelids, of Tony pressed into the space beneath his arm, cheek resting on Steve’s chest. Steve frowned; they had never done that. Steve would have remembered that right. He blinked, telling himself he would figure that and everything else out later. That none of that mattered right now.

Bucky, Sharon and Sam were waiting, weapons ready. Bucky held out his shield, offering. Steve smiled at them, a feeling of rightness, of hope, inflating his chest. It felt for the first time in a long time that he was making the right choice. Steve took the shield, swinging it into the place over his shoulder.

“I’m going to save Tony.”


End file.
